Maybe, someday
by Midnight Circus
Summary: When Ryoma is hurt by his family, there is only one person who is there to help him.
1. Chapter 1 St1C1

Okay, i edited it, and i realized how to do it without deleting every single chapter after it -.-... and adding them all back again...

* * *

He was sitting outside the ward, restlessly waiting for his brother to finish his doctors appointment. It was five, and he had a match in thirty minutes. Could they make it?

Forcing himself not to think of the worst, he directed his attention, instead, onto the dog-eared magazine in his hands. Federer beat Nadal in the Wimbledon final, some two months ago.

'I was right.' He mused, thinking of the things his father had bet on Nadal winning. Baka oyajii, he never told me. Oh well, he was at least 20 dollars richer now.

A few nurses were throwing sympathetic glances at him, something that he did not understand. They were just getting the usual iron supplements for Ryoga.

"NO! THIS CANNOT BE POSSIBLE!" his mother's voice came from within. "I DEMAND A SECOND OPINION!" her voice was loud and shrill, and it was attracting a few curious stares from a few patients sitting in the corridor.

Ryoma strode hesitantly to the door. It wasn't wise for anyone to be near her when she used that voice. He slid his hand onto the brass knocker and pushed the door open.

"... very sorry, but i'm afraid its true, we've already run multiple tests –"

"I REFUSE TO BELIEVE IT! COME RYOMA! WE'RE LEAVING"

It all started with the bruises on his arms, really. That was when his life ended. Not literally, but he had to quit the things he loved doing most, and watch helplessly at the sight of his mother sobbing continuously, and his father's usually carefree face morph into one of loss, pain, and fear.

It was a while before they could convince Rinko that their eldest son had contracted leukaemia, and when she finally accepted it, she broke down into tears and refused to eat anything for a week, until Nanjiroh's pleas finally persuaded her, and she broke into fresh tears once more.

Ryoma had been eight at the time, hardly old enough to understand the effect of this new development. He did however, get the gist of it when his father called him into a sit down discussion and insisted that he quit tennis.

"Ryoma, please. Ryoga is very sick and cannot play tennis anymore. You know he loves tennis as much as you do. He'll feel very bad if he sees you do something he cannot."

Ryoma hardly needed to be asked, he had already quit the team.

* * *

_Five years later..._

Ryoma glanced at the clock. Eight thirty. _I guess they're not coming back tonight. _Sitting at the empty table, he stared at his food and sighed. He really wasn't hungry. Wrapping his plate haphazardly in plastic film, he cleared some space in the fridge and shoved his untouched meal in. He would have it for breakfast tomorrow.

Making his way towards, his room, he stopped at the foot of the stairs to pick up a tired Karupin, before locking his door and sinking into his bed.

"Guess it's just you and me tonight Karupin."

Playing the memory over again in his head, Ryoma chuckled bitterly. That was just about the last time his mother had used "we" while referring to Ryoma and herself. Why could it not have been him with those fainting spells, weakness, bruises, hair loss, vomiting, operations, comas? _Why?_ He could see the softness his mother's eyes as she looked at Ryoga, and couldn't help but compare it with the cold, icy ones that had been directed to himself.

Ryoga had stolen more than his share of rights as the first born son, leaving little love for his parents to spare for himself. Ryoma was constantly ignored at home, whether deliberate or not. And despite all this, why did he still love Ryoga? Well,, he reminded himself, Ryoga did not try to stop Ryoma from quitting tennis, he did not make his parents stay longer than necessary at the hospital, he made his parents agree to letting Ryoma stay in his ward once a week, and did everything that brothers would normally do together.

Sighing, Ryoma picked up his tennis racquet and stared at the grid the strings made as they crossed. Pressing his palm to the center, the tears that he had fought so hard to control in front of everyone finally fell, unrelenting, rolling against his cheeks before dropping, one by one, onto his lap.

He wiped his tears away. Crying was stupid. Ryoga didn't cry, even though had to undergo near hell to keep himself alive. Ryoga was strong, and he had to be strong too.

_Look on the bright side. At least they're still with you, and when Ryoga gets discharged, we'll still be one family, right? _

He said this to himself again and again, as if to reassure himself, trying to convince his mind that his parents had not forgotten him, still loved him as much.

* * *

Ryoma found himself on the floor the next morning, Karupin yawning on his stomach. He picked him up unceremoniously by the scruff of his neck and off his torso. Groaning slightly, he sat up, only to find that he was already an hour late for school.

_Shit_

He jerked up, and sprinted to the kitchen. They normally were there at seven, but please let them be there now, just so that he could see their faces.

"Boy!"

Ryoma spun around and almost fainted with relief, it was his father. He was home. Just as he opened his mouth to utter a good morning, Nanjiroh's hand struck Ryoma on the left cheek.

The sound of flesh on flesh was ringing in his ears, and Ryoma was rendered temporarily speechless. He stared at the rough, calloused hand in front of him. _He hit me_. _Father hit me._

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE AT THIS TIME? HUH? YOU'RE SUPPUSED TO BE IN SCHOOL, BOY! I DON'T PAY THOUSANDS OF DOLLARS FOR YOU TO SKIP SCHOOL!"

_He hit me_.

"ANSWER ME, BOY!"

The second shout brought Ryoma back to his senses as he slowly stuttered, "I'm sorry, I overslept-"

CRACK! The second slap brought Ryoma to the ground. As he clutched his reddened cheek, tears of shock fell from his already swollen eyes.

"Nanjiroh!" Rinko's voice came from the kitchen, "what are you doing?"

"Brat didn't go to school."

Rinko helped Ryoma to his feet and brought him to the table. As she busied herself with the task of getting Fanta for Ryoma, she glanced uneasily at her husband, as if afraid that he would strike Ryoma again.

There was an awkward silence among the three, broken only by the tinkling of ice cubes against the glasses.

Rinko spoke first, gently, "Ryoma, um... as you probably know, your brother's um... condition has worsened as of lately, and so, um... we, your father and I, would like to move closer to the hospital. So that we can be closer to him, and, um... we have sold this house... we wanted to tell you tonight, but since you're here now..."

Her voice drifted off as she caught sight of Ryoma's expression, halfway between shock and something else she could not quite recognise.

"So, boy, we don't want to inconvenience you with the travelling, because the new house is very far away from St. Johns. And we also think that you should continue your tennis, so your mother and I have made arrangements for you to attend school in Japan. It's a great school, I used to go there when I was your age. You can live in cousin Nanako's house at the moment, since it is vacant." His voice, which was so strong just a minute ago, was now uncertain.

"But, of course. You don't have to go if you don't want to. We don't want to force you to do something that you dislike. If you want to stay here, I won't object..."

Both parents looked at Ryoma expectantly. Ryoma's head was still in a whirl, but he got the general message. _They don't want me anymore_.

_They don't love me._

Fighting to restrain the tears which were threatening to fall, Ryoma said, in a voice that sounded strangled to his own ears, "Can I bring Karupin with me?"

"Of course you can, dear!" Rinko said, almost beaming, oblivious to the fact that Ryoma was now visibly shaking, "Here's the plane ticket. The flight is tomorrow. We'll come visit you when Ryoga is better. I'm sorry that this is all so sudden. I really wanted to find a house that fitted all of our needs but, I guess some sacrifices had to be made..."

_So he was the sacrifice._

She smiled sadly and added, "we'll miss you Ryoma."

Nanjiroh was saying something about packing, and tennis, while Rinko cleared the kitchen table.

Ryoma walked out of the kitchen in a daze. As he entered his bedroom, his knees have way and he sunk onto the floor, letting out a choked cry. Covering his mouth with his palm, he willed himself to remain silent as his world around him crashed down, his anguish unbeknownst to the couple below.


	2. Chapter 2 St1C2

HI!

My first fic with my first account and my first… eeeh. Anyway, since 99 percent of you who read the story probably aren't going to review anyway, I won't bother asking… but if you have any questions or complaints or advice on the story you can always comment! Or email me… well then, enjoy the chapter!

Echizen Ryoma stared at the black suitcase, now containing all of his possessions, sitting at the foot of the stairs. Karupin was in her cage, scratching indignantly at the metal wires. Mind still in shock, he stumbled down the steps, one hand clutching his passport and ticket, the other unconsciously tracing circles on the wall.

His plane left in three hours, but he was in no hurry. He just wanted to say goodbye to this house. It was empty now, but once, it had been full of life, with streamers and lanterns hanging from every corner. He remembered the huge chocolate cake that he and Ryoga had shared when they were five. He remembered the countless nights spent sitting in front of the television, watching horror movies that left the whole family quaking in their slippers. The day they first left for St Johns. The day they got Karupin…

As the memories flashed one by one through his head, Ryoma smiled, and for the first time in weeks, laughed. And yet it could have been no better than a cry of bitterness, as every single chuckle was laced with regret, guilt and misery.

Now would seem like an appropriate time to break down and cry, but the last few years had already exhausted most of his lifetime supply of tears, leaving only a tearless, but shocked Ryoma to try to make sense of his already destroyed world.

Snapping back into reality, he picked up his suitcases and bade a final farewell to his home, and his family. _Things will never be the same as before. _As he flagged down a taxi, he took one look at the red brick wall and whitewashed fence, and smirked. He had been so naïve to believe that things could actually be okay. But he was already mature now, and whether his parents liked it or not, he would never be restored to his original, innocent, hero-worshipping, optimistic self.

A/N I decided not to describe the airport happenings because I was in a hurry and because there is absolutely no need to (this fic is already a long winded as it is)

"53 Sakura Drive," Ryoma said in clear, unaccented Japanese. He had arrived in Japan, and although he already had a splitting headache forming due to Jet lag, he had been forced to pry himself off the soft, cushiony armchairs in the airport. Cursing time difference and astronomy, Ryoma lugged his suitcases into a taxi and prepared for a long journey ahead. Leaning his head against the cool glass window, he closed his eyes and drifted off into a restful sleep.

The driver glanced at him, and gave a knowing smile.

"Young sir! Excuse me, please wake up! We are here."

Giving a grunt of annoyance, Ryoma pressed a few bills into the palm of the driver, before pulling his belongings out of the car. Muttering a few words of thanks, he watched as the Taxi sped off in a cloud of dust, and turned to the house on 53 Sakura drive.

Contrary to its name, there were absolutely no cherry trees on this road. The management had obviously agreed that magnolias were good enough to a replacement. Amused at his own knowledge of plant life, he looked at the number on the plaque, before comparing it to the one written on the sheet of paper in his hand. _That's the one. _

Walking up to the large oaken doors, he was hit with a sudden realization: _I don't have a key. _How could have been so stupid as to not notice it sooner. The room was vacant, his father had told him so. Deciding to try his luck anyway, he rang the door bell thrice, his head throbbing with numb pain.

There was no answer. Not like he was expecting one anyway. He sat on his suitcase, head to sore to be capable of any logical thought. Just as he was about to fall asleep once more, there was a tap on his shoulder. As he peeled his eyelids apart, he found himself face to face with a pair of cerulean eyes, brimming with concern.

"Are you alright little girl?"

Jerking awake at once, Ryoma replied hotly, "I am not a GIRL. I am a boy. One hundred percent MALE." Mumbling curses under his breath, Ryoma turned his face pointedly away from those overwhelmingly bright blue eyes, folding his arms as he did so.

"Aah… is that so? I'm sorry," Not sounding remotely so.

Ryoma turned his head a fraction of a degree to face the eyes again, only to find that they were now closed, and stretched into arches to go with a creepy smile on his face.

"Who are you?" Ryoma stated bluntly. He needed someone who could get IN the house, not interrogate him on his sexuality outside it.

"Aah, that was rude of me, no? I am Fuji Syuusuke. I live here," he said, gesturing towards the house on 53 Sakura drive. His smile stretched wider.

"Oh really?" replied Ryoma, a hint of genuine surprise in his voice, he raised his eyebrows questioningly. He was getting really pissed off, and if he could not get to lie down in five minutes, that Fuji Syuusuke character was going to get what was best for him.

"Yes really," the man called Fuji was saying, "I fact I own this place…"

"Is that so?" Ryoma muttered irritably. He stood up on unsteady feet, "well, then, I'll just leave and call that… that idiot da –"

His legs were weak, and the world around him was spinning. The last thing he saw before his heavy eyelids drooped over his eyes, was the dull gray concrete floor coming closer… and closer… he was going to fall… A pair if strong arms wrapped around his waist.

"Hey—!"

And then there was darkness.

He was lying on a bed. It smelt faintly of lemons. He felt nauseous. Like the time he and Ryoga decided to find out if the red berries growing on the shrubs were edible. They weren't.

_Ryoga._

"You awake yet?" a voice said in Japanese.

"Mmmpphhhh" Ryoma gave a grunt and turned onto his side, away from the shining light. He groaned. Had he reached Japan yet?

"You sure can sleep a lot, ne Ryoma-kun? Its eight now."

Oh, right. He was in Japan, and talking to a person named Fuji? Fiji?

Wait. _Eight? _Ryoma shot up. He was supposed to call Ryoga at six.

Startled at the sudden movement, Fuji turned and saw an extremely frantic Ryoma, his posture like that of a meercat sensing danger.

"Problem?"

"phone… call… America… Ryoga…"

Seeing Ryoma almost thrashing about tangled in bedsheets, Fuji chuckled. _**Kawaii ne. **_He moved forward to disentangle a distressed Ryoma from a pile of fabric.

Once freed from the confines of the cloth, Ryoma jumped and ran towards the door. And he stopped. He turned to face an extremely amused Fuji.

"Where am I Fiji-san?"

_**Fiji? **_"You are in my house my dear, Ryoma-_chan_"

"_Your_ house? It is my cousin Nanako's house is it not?"

"You are mistaken. Your cousin only rented one apartment in this building, which I own."

"Oh, then where's that?"

Fuji's smile widened, "Right here of course."

"…" there was a pause, before Ryoma spoke again. "Keys."

Fuji chuckled. He dropped a set of keys onto the boy's messy bed.

"Nice to meet you. I am your current landlord Fuji Syuusuke. You may call me Fuji, or Syuu-chan"

"Echizen Ryoma."

There was an awkward silence, which was broken by Ryoma.

"Get out."

"Na, you're so mean Ryoma-_chan."_

Fuji was standing outside the door. Ryoma's eye twitched, and he almost yelled, "Call me Echizen. And I am, for the love of god, NOT A GIRL."

Fuji chuckled again. _**He is so fun to tease…**_

Ryoma was dialing frantically on his cellphone. _Please be awake_. The phone was still ringing, and Ryoma was losing hope.

*click* His heart leapt. So Ryoga was still awake! How strange. He usually was asleep at this time.

"Whabaaatttt?"

Hearing the familiar drawl on the other end of the line, his face fell. It was the voice of Nanjiroh.

"Umm… Hi dad."

"OH Ryoma, you in Japan now?"

"Er… yes. Can I talk to Ryoga?"

"He's asleep. Don't call his private line from now on; we're terminating it tomorrow."

"Oh. What's the new num—"he was cut off in mid sentence.

"Sorry boy, I'm really busy now, I'll call back…"

"Huh? WAIT—!"

The phone was cut off, leaving a speechless Ryoma to process the new information(or rather, lack thereof) amidst the rhythmic beeping of the telephone.

Ryoma's expression hardened. Without another word, he snapped his phone shut and stuffed it into his back pocket.

Sinking into his just vacated bed, Ryoma tugged at his emerald locks and sighed. _I'm hungry_.

Closing his eyes and breathing slowly, he gathered in the scent of lemons and exhaled.

"Na, you look cute with your eyes closed ne? Want to be my next model?"

Ryoma's eyes shot open. Golden orbs met the blue. As he blinked several times to ensure that his sanity was intact, he came to a sudden realization that he and the landlord Fuji were almost nose to nose.

"How?"

"Ryoma, you're so naïve." Fuji jingled another set of keys.

Ryoma set his palm on his stalker's forehead and pushed him off his bed.

Stretching his other hand out, he said in a voice devoid of any emotion, "spare keys."

Fuji's smile faded. Where was that child-like spunk he saw just now? He dropped the keys into Ryoma's outstretched palm and sighed.

Plastering another smile onto his face, Fuji said pitifully, "Saa, Ryoma you're so mean, and after I brought breakfast for you too." He gestured to the tray on the table.

Without as much as a sideways glance, Ryoma replied, "I'm not hungr—"

He stopped as a loud rumbling noise emitted from his abdomen. Blushing slightly, he looked down, as if reprimanding his stomach for misbehaving.

Fuji's smile widened at this uncalled for stroke of luck, and remarked cheerfully," well I guess that speaks for itself!"

Dragging Ryoma to the table he sat him down on a chair before pulling another for himself. He chuckled, at the sight of Ryoma, with his pink tinged cheeks, and feminine hands tentatively reaching for a spoon. _**It's sacrilegious to call him male**_.

As his hand held a spoonful of soup, Ryoma's eyes gazed suspiciously at Fuji, before emptying its contents into his mouth. Almost at once, his tensed expression eased, to be replaced with a small smile. He then attacked the rest of his meal with almost unearthly gusto.

_**So he likes food… who knew**_. He studied his small frame and slender build. Seeing his small face streaked with bread crumbs, Fuji chuckled again. He turned his attention to Ryoma's suitcases. A wicked idea formed in his head.

"Say, Ry—Echizen-kun, do you want me to help you unpack?" His voice was dangerously sweet, and even Ryoma, who had only known him for barely 30 minutes know better than to refuse this one sided request.

"Fihmebhutyoomarsgatouuhtsoohn."

Mouth stuffed with food, Ryoma muttered his incoherent words of agreement. As Fuji opened the black suitcase to reveal a brown canvas bag, Ryoma's eyes widened, and he snatched it out of the startled Fuji's reach, stuffing it under the bed, also out of his sight. He was kneeling on the floor, his back to Fuji, and Fuji could see that he was trembling.

"Get out, please" his voice was not harsh, but soft and pleading, and Fuji, who could be tactful at times, excused himself. He would satisfy his sadistic needs later.

AAH this chapter is OVER! Finally got it through. I apologize for any illogical situations or any factual or grammatical errors. I don't come from an English speaking country you see (my parents are chinese)… any questions or comments you can Comment or email me! Oh and as you've probably already noticed, Fuji's thoughts are in italicized bold and Ryoma's in italics hope you enjoyed it!

Alice (Aka Midnight circus)

P.S. I just realized that my pen name may be very similar to some other peoples here. I'm very sorry. I probably saw it, got the idea in my head, let it fade into a memory, and when a sudden inspiration comes, I'll think it was my own brain working wonders (when its not)… GAAH

OH as some of you may have noticed, i have changed the name of this fic, because i realised it was to similar to another Fuji/ryo fic... thanks fot the reviews! it really inspired me, as an aspiring writer and all... thanks!


	3. Chapter 3 St1C3

Oomph, third chapter up!

and after I posted my first chapter, I found meself looking over it and over again. I think I am showing signs of narcissism… oh well it was bound to happen anyway…

and thanks for all your advice/comments! And about the story, I have made a few tweaks to the storyline, so sorry if it's confusing And I made it so that ryoma quit tennis willingly because of his bro, who isn't his twin now…

And you know, this story kinda reminded me of my sister's keeper, except that it is very different, but it just made me think of it… this is getting confusing, I should stop.

So, Enjoy this Chapter!

O0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Fuji was confused. It wasn't everyday that someone grabbed something from him in such frantic haste, so obviously hiding something. Fuji liked things that didn't make sense, and he was captivated by this enigma who was Ryoma.

But, even in the space of those few seconds the brown canvas bag was visible, he could have sworn he saw, distinctly, the shape and handle of a…

A sudden slam jerked the blue eyed sadist out of his trance, and he looked up to see an extremely edgy Ryoma, clutching the brown bag and eying it in such a guilty manner one could have mistaken him for a criminal trying to dispose of the evidence of his crime.

Ryoma hurried down the steps. What on earth had gotten into his head while packing? What had convinced him to bring _that_ along? It must have been his father talking about tennis before he left. _Baka oyajii._

"Going somewhere?" there was a drawl from the kitchen. Landlord Fuji was in.

"Out," Ryoma replied shortly, before unlocking the front door, and stepping out onto Sakura drive.

Fuji was curious.

The scent of magnolias was thick in the air. Ryoma looked for the closest dumpster and left the bag on the ground, not looking back or bothering to retrieve his bag.

The late afternoon sun was bathing the entire street in a warm glow, and Ryoma couldn't help but feel light hearted as he made his way back to the house. Some children were skipping on the pavements, walking arm in arm with their friends. _Friends_. No doubt returning home from school.

School. _Oops_, He had totally forgotten about school. Sprinting back to the apartment, he tried to force the door open for a good half minute, before realizing that it was locked. Cursing his forgetfulness, he punched his fingers on the doorbell impatiently.

The door opened, "back so soon?" Landlord Fuji was smirking.

Ryoma ignored him and continued to run up the stairs and into his apartment, or rather, room, and set about fishing around his suitcase, looking for all the things he would need for school. What was the school name again? Oh right, Seishun Gakuen. He looked up the maps online, marked his routes.

He had his stationery, his bag, he needed books, he would have to get a set of school uniforms too. He decided against wearing his old uniform to school, not wanting to attract unwanted attention. Little did he know that he would attract more than just attention, thanks to a certain blue eyed landlord.

O0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

The alarm was ringing. Echizen Ryoma muttered a long string of curses and got up. He checked the time. He was going to be late for school. _Damn it_! He scrambled out of bed, half lidded eyes adjusting to the sudden change in lighting. After accidentally splashing some ice cold water on his face, Ryoma was feeling very much awake. Throwing on a T-shirt, Jeans and a hoodie, Ryoma grabbed his bag and made a run for it. If he was fast enough, maybe… maybe he just could make it.

He was running, in the supposed direction of his school. He had checked the maps the previous night. Hopefully, the cartographers knew what they were doing.

After fifteen minutes of non-stop sprinting, Ryoma finally got to school. He had never, for the life of him, ran so much in such a short amount of time, for absolutely nothing at all. He was still late. His legs felt like jello. Panting, one hand rubbing a stitch in his side, the other clutching the cool metal bar of the school gate, supporting his weight, he cursed, again, and tried to catch his breath.

"Saa… Late on your first day of school? This isn't good Ryoma-kun," a familiar voice.

His head shot up and he came face to face with the smiling angel from hell. Groaning inwardly, he managed to form the words, "didn't know… Fuji-san… school… could have woken me… late…", a remarkable feat seeing as he was still doubled over and wheezing.

Fuji's smile widened. The sight of this tiny boy gasping for breath was nearly too cute to be true. Laughing, he said, "of course I wanted to my dear, but it was difficult, seeing as you have taken both of my keys from me." He faked a small pout, of course, Ryoma wasn't going to know that he had another set of keys, the set of which he had kindly used to in his stunt of adjusting Ryoma's alarm.

Unable to come up with a substantial argument, Ryoma growled, "are you going to let me in or not?"

"Patience my dear," Fuji jingled with the keys and opened the gate with a loud creak.

Still out of breath, Ryoma tried to regain some of his dignity and he stormed into the school, leaving a still smiling and amused Fuji-sempai behind him.

"So, Echizen, you have just come from America, I see?"

"Yes," Ryoma replied. He was going through his transfer papers with the principal, which was boring him to death.

"Well, everything seems to be in order," _Duh_. "Have you ordered a school uniform?"

"Yes," he lied.

"Good. Well then, you'll be in class 1-2. Homeroom teacher is Nakamura-sensei"

Making his way to class, he spotted an extremely pleased Fuji, who was walking among a group of his friends. He was laughing. Hoping that Fuji did not see him, Ryoma turned away, to face the window overlooking the school field. A group of girls were attempting to play volleyball with a brightly-coloured inflatable ball, laughing hysterically as it sailed through the air and hit one of them on the nose.

Ryoma sighed, he sincerely hoped that the girls here weren't as creepy or fervent as those in St Johns, where he was followed by a different group of fangirls each day, gawked at while changing, and even had his locker broken into and belongings stolen.

He stopped outside class 1-2, where the teacher was desperately trying (and failing) to quieten the class of rowdy students. He knocked. Once, twice. Resigning to the fact that no one could hear him, Ryoma pushed the door and entered.

Almost at once, a hush fell upon the inhabitants of 1-2, even as he fumbled with the paper in his hands, he could feel the eyes upon him. He handed the form to the teacher, who was, to say the least, unnerved by the sudden change in his classroom.

"Ah, er... Class, this is Echizen Ryoma. He has just transferred from America, and will be joining us today. Please welcome him and get to kn—"

The rest of his sentence was drowned in a sudden uproar, as the students in the class threw questions at him. Echizen Ryoma was annoyed. He had just run a few kilometres only to find that his landlord was a senior at his new school. Not to mention that that very landlord had his eyes set on making his life hell.

He looked. He glared. Those who caught sight of his face cringed, and wisely shut their mouths, and little by little silence was restored to class 1-2.

"Sensei, where should I sit?"

The man in glasses seemed to snap out of a reverie, and gestured to an empty seat next to a girl with red pigtails, who immediately blushed crimson and introduced herself as Sakuno Ryuzaki.

"Hello," Ryoma muttered before seating himself beside her.

The other girls in the room were giving her death glares.

_Oops_…

As the lesson started, Ryoma felt himself getting drowsier and drowsier, until finally his neck lost the strength to support his head and he crashed down on the table with a huge BANG. That woke him up.

"Echizen!" _huh, since when did the teachers change? _"You may be a new student, but I will not tolerate rudeness in my class! Now get up here and answer the question on the board!"

Clearly set on humiliating Ryoma, the teacher turned smugly to face the whiteboard. As he made his way to the front of the class, he noticed the sympathetic looks his classmates sent him. _What is with them_? The question was not that hard.

After a few moments, the entire class, including the teacher, was ogling at him in sheer disbelief. _What_? It was just a graphing of exponential decay. He returned to his seat. The girl, Sakurako? Whispered, "Wow, you're really smart."

_Smart? _He remembered the countless nights studying in bed under a blanket, with a torchlight illuminating the tiny print of his textbooks. His eyesight was almost ruined, and yet his effort amounted to nothing. He sneered at his own childish stupidity and drifted once more into dreamland…

_Ten-year old Ryoma was skipping back home, an exam paper in his hand. A young flustered woman opened the door, her faces flushed and sweaty. _

_She turned back into the house, calling for her husband. He came out, carrying a hyperventilating boy in his arms._

"_Mother! Mother! He shouted, look!"_

_He waved the paper in the air. He was ignored. As the boy's mother followed his father out of the house, he clutched on to her skirt._

"_Mother, I got full mar—"_

_He was cut off as a palm was brought down to his face with a loud crack. _

"_Don't be a brat! Your brother is sick!" she shrieked. _

_As the boy stood at the doorway in shock, the heavy wooden door was slammed in his face, followed by the click of a lock. _

_The boy was crying. The exam paper lay forgotten on the floor._

Lunchtime brought forth a new realization. _I don't have food._ Sighing, he wandered aimlessly, until he found himself near one of the greenhouses, and, though he wouldn't admit it, lost.

"GAAAH! DAMN IT ALL!" he yelled.

"Saa… You are one loud freshman aren't you…"

Ryoma froze. Was it just him, or was Fuji appearing too often for it to be coincidental?

The person in question jumped off the tree, and landed, unfortunately, on Ryoma, startling the life out of him.

There was a pause.

"Fuji-sempai, may I ask how long you're going to use me as a chair?"

"I dunno, I was just thinking how soft and squishy you were…"

"KEEP THAT TO YOURSELF!"

"What? I was compleme—"

"SAYING SOMEONE IS SQUISHY IS NOT A COMPLIMENT!"

"If you say so…"

"…"

"Saa, so you're lost ne, Ryoma?"

"Not lost."

"Well then, I'll just go ba—"

"Eh? WAI—"

"Yeeesss?"

"Erm, could you show me the way…"

"Not lost huh? You're sooooo not lost."

"Shut up."

After a few minutes of torture, Ryoma finally got out of the school garden, and nearly kissed the concrete floors. As he tried to escape from the devil, an arm encircled his waist.

"Saa… Ryoma, where are you going for lunch?"

"Classroom."

"Are you free right now?" his voice was soft and dangerous.

"Umm… I…I… have…" Ryoma stuttered, trying to think of a non-existent job for him to do.

"So you have nothing? Come then, I'll take you to meet my friends…"

"Ah- !"

Hoisting Ryoma onto his shoulder, he made his way back to the lunchroom, eliciting shouts of protest and frantic arm-waving from the emerald haired boy.

_He sure is stronger than he looks._..

"Hey, Fuji-sempai,"

"Hmm?"

"You know what this is called?"

"What?"

"Kidnapping."

Fuji chuckled, "Ryoma, it is hardly kidnapping if the other party is willing."

"I AM NOT WILLING."

"You are so cute,"

"I AM NOT CUTE."

"Whatever you say, Ryoma,"

"It's ECHIZEN!"

O0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Another chapter! I hope I can still update as frequently as I did this week… I'll try my best!

Please enjoy this chapter, and let me know if there are any mistakes, whether in the content or language!

Well then,

Bye for now!


	4. Chapter 4

Ooh, another chapter after so long… it has really been a while hasn't it, and I'm sorry. I won't try to make any excuses, but I really hope I can update more frequently (annoying school). I read through it myself, though there may be some mistakes I haven't detected…

Well, enjoy!

this is a line break, a line break a line break~

After a long hard half day of school, the students of Seishun Gakuen were awarded with a comedy that afternoon, when a green haired little boy was carried into the lunchroom like a sack of potatoes, and plonked down on the table surrounded by a few of the most popular guys in school.

"YOU ARE SUCH AN IDIOT! PUT ME DOWN!"

"Nya Fujiko! Who is this little chibi?

Ryoma fumed. _Chibi?_

"This is Echizen Ryoma! Isn't he cute?"

"I AM NOT A DISPLAY IT—"

He stopped, aware of the scrutinizing glances the school was giving him.

Ryoma flushed.

"Wa! Ochibi really is cute Nya! I'm Eiji! Kikumaru Eiji!"

"So, _Ochibi_," smirked Fuji, inwardly pleased at the boy's reaction, "here are my friends, Kikumaru Eiji, that one is Momoshiro, that is Kaido Kaoru, with the bandanna, the next to him is Inui, creepy one with glasses, and Tezuka, and Oishi, and Taka, and—"

"Fuji, put the boy down." A bespectacled boy with golden brown hair was saying.

"Hai hai Tezuka buchou…"

_Buchou huh?_

"I'm Momoshiro Takeshi! Are you a friend of Fuji's?" A boy with violet asked.

"Fshuuuuu, idiot." Kaido hissed.

"What?"

Ryoma watched in bemusement as the two started bickering, and was surprised that no one else even attempted to stop them, as Momoshiro proceeded to pulled off the snake boy's bandanna.

"Inui, Inui Sadaharu. So, Echizen, how did you get to know Fuji?" a boy with rectangular spectacles asked, notebook in hand. His glasses glinted.

"I live with him." Ryoma replied.

"oh… LIVE WITH HIM?" Eiji the cat boy was shouting.

Fuji snuggled onto Ryoma's shoulder, "Hnnnn, and Ryo-chan looks so cute when he's asleep too."

"Who's Ryo-chan?"

"Saa, you're so mean, and after you fainted in my arms too."

The entire group gaped (with the exception of a usual few).

"DON'T SAY THINGS THAT WILL MAKE OTHER PEOPLE MISUNDERSTAND!"

"So, um… Echizen, when did you transfer here?"

"toda—"

He was cut off as a loud grumble emitted from his stomach.

"Nya! Ochibi didn't eat?"

"Oh no! A young growing boy must get his nutrition!" (you know who)

Everyone at the table started piling food in front of the bewildered teen.

Silence. And Ryoma started devouring his food, stuffing it into his mouth, much to the surprise of the seniors around him. As the food in front of him was reduced to a pile of wrappers and empty boxes, he turned expectantly to face the group, clearly unsatisfied.

Fuji wished he had his camera with him. Ryoma looked even more adorable now, with a smear of tomato sauce on his cheek and breadcrumbs around his mouth and in his hair.

"So, Echizen," a desperate voice called, evidently trying to get his mind off food, "what club will you be joining?"

"Dunno," Ryoma replied shortly, silently demanding more of this "nutrition". The regulars immediately regretted their generosity, anyway, who knew that tiny boy could hold so much food?

"What club are you in?" Ryoma asked, realizing that they were facing a food shortage.

"Tennis," replied Fuji, before anyone could get a word in, "you know how to play?" He asked the question in passing, but everyone could tell that he expected an answer, or he would coax it out of him.

"Somewhat," Ryoma replied, just as nonchalantly, shaking the crumbs off his hair.

Fuji's ever present smile became a tad less dazzling, but bright all the same. _**But I could have sworn I saw a racquet yesterday…**_Oh well, an easy win was never fun anyway.

"Want a game?" Fuji wasn't going to let this matter slide.

Ryoma gave him a pointed look.

"Saa… We're a bit short of time, ne? Never mind then." _**Don't think I'll let this matter slide though. **_

The regulars watched in bemusement as the two exchanged heated glares, and went their separate ways.

"Is it just me who thinks this boy is strange?"

The regulars all privately agreed. It wasn't everyday you found a person who could withstand Fuji's less than comfortable staring.

O0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

The clock hands edged closer and closer to its mark as the students watched, hypnotized at its rhythmic movements.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. RIIIINNGGGGGG!

The end of school arrived. Ryoma, jolted out of dreamland by the bell gave a grunt of annoyance and packed his things. His left cheek was pink due to excessive pressing onto the school tables. Picking up his backpack, Ryoma trudged down the stairs. He was walking back home. Three kilometers, it said so on the map. Walking past the tennis courts, he saw the group he had lunch with, running laps. Seems like they weren't lying about the tennis.

There was Eiji, and Momo, and Taka, and Kaidou, and Oishi, and Fuji… Tezuka and Inui weren't running… Oh, Fuji had called him buchou so he probably was the head…

Peeling his eyes off the tennis courts, Ryoma walked off, his head bowed. Closing his eyes, he felt the cool wind against his face. He looked around for a place to get dinner. There were none At Sakura drive. Seeing a chain of shops along one street, he went to take a look. Well, the food seemed decent, but incredibly overpriced, and even he could not afford it. Sighing slightly, headed back home.

He was at the oak doors again, slightly overwhelmed at his large amount of house keys. Was Fuji a locksmith? He didn't know, but he wasn't going to bother asking. He stepped out of his shoes and bent down to place them on the shelf. Everything seemed oddly familiar, even though he had only been there for two days. The Kitchen door was wide open. Ignoring it, he climbed up the steps, his legs weirdly tired. Maybe it was the walk, that stupid long walk. He should find a bus, really. He took out his keys. Knowing full well that three of them fit this keyhole, he didn't bother to check which one he was using.

He sunk onto the bed. Jet lag was catching up with him. Hadn't he slept enough in class? That girl, what was her name again? Kept waking him up and asking him weird questions.

Karupin crawled from his refuge under the bed, where he had been camping out for the past day. Stretching, he jumped onto Ryoma's lap and purred, rubbing his head on Ryoma's chest.

"So that's where you've been, I was looking all over for you." Ryoma mumbled, slightly sleep deprived (not really). Yawning, Ryoma lay down on the bed, consciousness slowly slipping out of his grasp.

O0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

"Ne, Ryoma? Ryoma! Echizen, Ochibi, Ryo-chan!" a voice was resounding in his ears, like a radio he could not turn off. Reaching out to turn off this alarm, he pressed an amused Fuji Syuusuke on the head, before flipping onto his side and drifting off to sleep once more.

Chuckling slightly to himself, Fuji turned and left the room, locking the door behind him.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Ryoma woke up with a start. Glancing at the clock, he realized it was almost eight thirty. Muttering curses under his breath. He sat up, rubbing his eyes. Oh, he had to call Ryoga again. His father had said he changed Ryoga's private line, but it was worth a try…

Dialing quickly, he prayed silently, hoping that Ryoga would answer. After a few minutes of beeping, Ryoma resigned to the fact that Ryoga's number had indeed been changed. Sighing for the twentieth time that day, he dialed his Mom's number, knowing that his dad would still be asleep.

"Hello?" It was his father's voice. That was strange. Why was he awake?

"Oh Dad, its Ryoma here."

"Oh. Have you settled into Japan?"

"Yes, I went to school today."

"Hmmm? Did you see the tennis club?"

"Yes"

"Did you play?"

Ryoma paused, not knowing how to answer, "Yes," he lied.

"Good, Seigaku's tennis team is one of the best."

Not knowing how to answer, Ryoma moved on to the main focus of his call, "Is Ryoga there?"

"Sorry boy, he's still in a coma."

"WHAT?" Ryoma shouted this word. He knew comas, like deep sleep, and sometimes you don't wake up…

"Relax, It's a drug induced coma, he'll be up by tomorrow, once his surgery's finished…"

"WHAT SUR— Surgery?" he was beginning to panic at his own lack of information.

"It's just one of those blood thingies, I'm not too sure, you'd better ask your mom."

"Why didn't you TELL me?" Ryoma was angry now, and was struggling to keep his temper in check.

"Sorry, I have to go now—" A click on the other line of the phone and then beeping.

Ryoma's phone clattered to the floor. Sinking onto his knees, he tugged his hair with his hands. _Why didn't they tell me? _Was he not their son? Ryoga's brother? Did they already forget about him? Resting his head against the newly vacated bed, he clenched his fists. He was already tired again. He gave a scream onto his pillow, muffling the otherwise heart wrenching sound, and pounded the mattress. His breathing was heavy as he tried to compose himself.

O0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

The door was thrust open, and an anxious Fuji found a hysterical Ryoma, almost on the brink of insanity. He was hitting anything he could get his hands on, namely his schoolbag, which lay unzipped on the opposite end of the room, contents spilling out, the lamp, which was shattered on the ground, and his clothes, which were strewn all across the floor. Ryoma turned to face the dumbfounded Fuji, who was momentarily frozen to the spot. Ryoma screamed again lunging for the rolling chair next to the table, but tripping over the scattered debris on the floor and crashing onto the broken glass.

Blood was pouring out of various wounds on his arms, palms, knees and face. He looked crazed, mad, inhuman. He was panting, staring straight at Fuji with those cat-like eyes of his, like a lion eying his prey.

And Fuji finally knew what it was like to be petrified with fear.

Rushing towards the distraught teen, Fuji kneeled down beside him and hugged him from behind. Ryoma struggled a little, flailing his limbs, before falling, unmoving, into Fuji's arms. Fuji stared at the limp form before him. He stared, heart racing, the memory freshly carved into his head. Finally snapping back to his senses, he lifted Ryoma's small form, and carried it to his room. Fumbling with his phone, he called a doctor to his house, praying all the while, for this little boy.

The doctor arrived within fifteen minutes. He knew Fuji, and he rarely even called him, let alone sounded so frantic. Fuji almost died with relief when the Doctor came, and immediately ushered him to the boy.

Raising his eyebrows, the doctor followed Fuji into his room. Even he was surprised to see a stunning boy, around the age of twelve, lying on the bed, hyperventilating and sweating. The doctor rushed forward and started examining his wounds. Most were not too deep but some required stitches.

"What happened?" he murmured.

"Oh… well…. There was a burglar, and he came into the house and…" Fuji was struggling to remain calm, but his voice was cracking. He didn't even know why he was lying, but the scene just now seemed too much for him to retell, and he knew that something was terribly wrong, no matter how much he tried to deny it.

"I see."

"Yes. Thanks so much for coming soon Izumi-san," Fuji said, all the while staring at Ryoma. _**Please be alright. Please please please… **_

"He'll need a few stitches, on his arm and ankle. Other than that, it's mostly fine. I've disinfected them. Hold his arm down would you?"

Doctor Izumi pressed a needle into his arm, the anesthetic slowly entering his body. Ryoma's tense body relaxed, and his breathing leveled out a little.

Fuji cringed as he saw the thread pulled between one extremely deep cut in Ryoma's lower arm. After the doctor was done, Ryoma's once pale, smooth arm was marred by one long mark. The wound was then bandaged, all the way to his elbow. Fuji tried to stop the tears from leaking out of his eyes.

O0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

The doctor had left, and Fuji sat himself down on a stool by his bed. It was nearly midnight, and he was dead tired. He held Ryoma's bandaged hand in his and held it to his forehead, and slowly let sleep take over him.

As the sun rose over Sakura Drive the next day, it illuminated a pair of sleeping figures, one lying on the bed, the other sitting on a stool with his head rested on the sheets. Fuji blinked. It was a school day. He picked up the phone, which was ringing off the hook, slightly annoyed that it had woke him up.

"Hello?"

It was Tezuka.

"I'm calling in sick today."

"…"

"No."

"…"

"I'm feeling fine."

"…"

"Something came up."

"…"

"I'll be there tomorrow."

"…"

"Okay."

"..."

"Thanks,"

"…"

"Bye"

The phone clicked and was placed back on its charger. Fuji turned back to the bed and found a curious Ryoma staring at him through lidded eyes.

"Who was that?"

"Tezuka."

"Where am I?"

"My room." Fuji chuckled, at the expression that momentarily crossed Ryoma's face.

"Did you do anything to me?" Ryoma said suspiciously.

Raising his eyebrows, Fuji replied, mildly affronted, "Is that the first thing you think about when I tell you you're in my room?"

"I don't mean to be rude Fuji-senpai, but frankly, yes."

"I'm hurt Ryo-chan."

"I told you," Ryoma said through gritted teeth, "not to call me that."

"But that was the only thing you responded to yesterday."

Ryoma reached out his arm to scratch his head, and winced with pain. Fuji remembered.

"OW, my arm hurts."

"Ahh yes, yesterday there was a burglar in the house, and you fell on some glass." Ryoma did not seem to remember, and Fuji was going to let it stay that way.

"How stupid," he mumbled to himself, "was that why you were holding my hand just now?"

If he had been anyone less than Fuji, he would have blushed. But, being Fuji, he simply chuckled and said, "So you were awake? For how long?"

"About five minutes."

"I'll bet you're going to sue me for assault now huh?" Fuji said sarcastically.

"No, actually. Thanks." And Ryoma smiled his angelic smile. _**Have I just died and went to heaven?**_

"No problem. And I've called the school for your sick leave."

Ryoma muttered something.

"What was that?"

"I'm calling in sick on my second day in school. How dumb is that?"

"Not really, now I get you all to myself."

There was a pause.

"I'll think I'll go back to my room."

Ryoma eased himself into a sitting position and slowly pushed his body onto his feet. He grimaced as he put weight onto his left foot.

"Er, you got stitches."

"Geez what kind of burglar was that?"

Ryoma seemed strangely calm. If it had been someone else in Ryoma's position, Fuji was sure he'd be freaking out.

Fuji gazed at his retreating figure and frowned. Something was wrong with that boy.

O0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

I'm so sorry I took so long to update. I've been working on another story for school…

anyway, the weird thing that ryoma has that makes him go crazy? Well, It's real. I didn't make it up or anything. My good friend has it, and whenever he gets angry he will just lose control and go mad, throwing desks and such. So we try not to get him angry. And when he recovers he usually dosen't remember a thing about what he has done… He is normally very sweet though. I dunno what it's called but I'll try to find out… oh well

enjoy!

Alice


	5. Chapter 5

Ooh this came out fast!

Please enjoy! And tell me if there are any weird things/mistakes. To be honest, I have absolutely no idea how to edit the story. Can someone tell me? I did it right the first time but I can't seem to do it again… I changed the chapter but the story in fanfiction isn't changing WHARAR?

Oh well, I hope you enjoy this all the same

* * *

"So, remind me, why are you camping out in my room again?"

"Because you seemed lonely Ryoma."

"And now, remind my why I'm the only one doing the work?"

"Because it's your room."

"Someone doesn't seem to think so… How many keys do you have of this room, hmm?"

"Doesn't matter, I'll always have one."

"Stay on the bed if you're not going to help. I'm injured you know, you should be the one cleaning."

"Saa, then it wouldn't be fun anymore, no?"

"To you… Idiot" Ryoma muttered darkly.

Sweeping the remains of the glass frames and lamp, Ryoma emptied it in the bin by the door, limping slightly.

The bedcovers had been changed and the clothes were hanging back on their rightful hangers. The glass fragments were still on the floor. _What a waste, that was a nice lamp._

"Tell me, Fuji-san, what kind of burglar breaks into a room without sealing anything?"

"Hmmm?" Fuji looked up from the book he was reading, "They say eating rambutans can cure fever."

"What on earth is a rambutan?"

"Some sort of hairy tropical fruit."

"Oh," Ryoma's broomstick hit something hard, he reached out. Hs fingers came into contact with cold metal. It was his phone.

His expression hardened as he remembered the conversation with his father. He had a sudden urge to break it, fling it across the room, but he didn't. He did, however, slam it harder than necessary on the pine table, causing it to tremble.

Fuji looked up from _A Guide to Medicinal Plants_ and stared, "Something wrong?"

"Nothing, just remembered something,"

"What?" He couldn't have remembered the previous night could he?

"Nothing important," Ryoma waved the question off, continuing with the sweeping. It was almost nine, and the room was getting quite stuffy.

Wiping his fore head with the back of his hand, Ryoma sat down on the bed with Fuji. There were no more visible fragments of glass on the floor and Ryoma was too lazy to sweep it again.

"Hey Fuji, do you have any fo—"

"Food? Of course, you haven't had breakfast yet have you? Come along!"

Fuji tucked the book under Ryoma's pillow, and led him to the kitchen. Sitting the injured boy on a chair, he turned to the fridge.

"Are you vegetarian? Any allergies?"

The boy shook his head.

"Good!"

Fuji took out two eggs and started beating them. Fuji looked more like a girl than ever, humming slightly while whisking eggs. Ryoma looked mildly unnerved at this display, but he kept silent. This person was going to feed him.

After a long five minutes, an omelet was completed. Crisp yellow, steaming slightly. Ryoma immediately took a large bite. He closed his eyes as he tasted Tomato, cheese and chopped bacon.

Fuji chuckled at the ecstatic boy before him.

"Fuji-san, aren't you going to eat too?"

"Hmmm? I'd much rather watch you eat."

Ryoma blushed slightly, and he continued to eat.

"When did you learn to cook?"

"Saa, probably when I watched my mother and sister…"

"It's good, you should try it." Ryoma rolled a slice onto his fork and pushed it into Fuji's mouth.

"Aah, Ryoma is feeding me."

"It's not called feeding!"

"Then what is it called?"

"Poison testing."

"That'll work." Fuji chuckled as Ryoma shoveled the rest of the omelet into his mouth, as if afraid that he would steal it. As he watched the boy place the plate in the sink, he couldn't help but wonder, _**what's wrong with him?**_

Ryoma smiled slightly as he rinsed the plate with his uninjured hand. He wondered how long it had been since he had eaten with someone else at the table (Besides Karupin). Maybe Landlord Fuji wasn't so bad after all.

o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

"I need to ask you a favour."

Ryoma was standing in Fuji's room, arms folded across his chest.

"What favour is it?"

"Please lend me a set of school uniforms for tomorrow, I told the principal that I got some already."

Fuji's smile widened, he could use this opportunity to…

"Sure!" Ryoma's face broke into a relieved smile.

"Thanks very much, I was wondering what I should do, since I don't have any and—"

"On one condition,"

Ryoma's smile faded, "now what," he said sullenly.

"Nothing too bad," Fuji gave an airy wave, "just be my model for the day."

"NO," Ryoma replied immediately. Who knows what that person would make him do?

"Okay, find then," Fuji didn't press on the matter, "I knew you would refuse. Well here you go."

Fuji took all of his old uniforms out of the closet, "There, they don't fit me anymore."

Ryoma was a bit taken aback by the easy win, but he was relieved all the same, "you sure you don't need them anymore?"

Fuji thought for a moment, "Then again, I might need this one," He extracted one set, "The rest is yours."

A small smile graced Ryoma's pink lips, and he bowed, "Thank you Fuji-senpai."

"No problem, if you ever want to take up my offer, you can always call me," Fuji grinned.

"Not going to happen," Ryoma sped off before Fuji changed his mind.

O0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Ryoma pulled on the shirt. Buttoning the gold buttons to his neck, he cursed the complexity of Japanese uniforms. The collar was strangling him. He unbuttoned it. There was a button missing, oh well, not that he cared anyway. He could replace it. Pulling on his pants, he gave himself the distinct impression of an undertaker. Black shirt, black pants. Well, he liked things plain. He wondered when Fuji had been as small as this. He certainly couldn't imagine it. The pants were a tad too long. _Oh what the heck_. It was too late to adjust it now. Looping in a belt, he gave himself a look in the mirror, seemed to deem himself presentable, and slung his bag over his shoulder, wincing as it came into contact with his bandaged shoulder.

He left for school. Fuji was already gone, no doubt to morning practice. Locking the door behind him, Ryoma walked down Sakura Drive once more.

The gate was open when he got there. Good, he wasn't late. He climbed up the stairs to class 1-2, getting lost a few times. When he finally got to his class, it was in its usual uproar. He stepped in.

"Where were you yesterday Echizen-kun?"

"I missed you!"

"You look so cute in our school uniform!"

These questions and remarks were flung at him the moment he entered. Blocking out all unnecessary noise, Ryoma sunk into his seat and buried his head in a pile of papers, no doubt from the day before.

_Time for a nap._

"Echizen-kun, you've found someone you like already? It's only your second day in school!"

"Mffhhh?"

"Are you in love with someone?" The loud girl sitting in front of him was asking.

He ignored her, wondering what on earth was in their brains. Fluff, maybe?

"Class, please settle down!" Nakamura-sensei sounded desperate.

Then suddenly, the whole room was silent.

"Sensei, can I speak to Ryoma for a minute?"

Ryoma's head shot up. _That voice_. Sure enough, the smiling brunette was standing at the door, waving one hand to motion Ryoma forward.

"Su…sure… Echizen-kun, go…"

Ryoma stood up grudgingly. He had a feeling this wasn't going to be good. They stood in the corridor, much to the disappointment of the many females in the class.

"What?"

"Don't be so mean Ryoma, I brought you something." He lifted a bright blue box.

"What?" Ryoma said again.

"Your lunch! I made it especially for you." Fuji stood beaming.

"Oh… thanks?" Ryoma said stupidly, uncomfortably aware of the heads poking out of the window.

"Is that all that you're going to say?" He bent down so that they were face to face.

"Thanks."

Fuji looked disappointed, but pressed the box into Ryoma's palm, "See you at lunch Ryoma!"

Ryoma stared at the blue box. It was the exact same shade of blue as Fuji-senpai's eyes.

Feeling extremely foolish, he brought the box back to his seat and stuffed it under his desk.

"Echizen-kun! How do you know Fuji-sama?"

Grunt. Snore. Ryoma was asleep again.

"Sakuno! Look! He's smiling!"

The girls all crowded around the sleeping form of the emerald haired boy, and frantically brought out their cellphones to snap pictures.

Somewhere in the distance, Fuji sighed.

* * *

(A/N just found this horizontal ruler !:)

Lunchtime came all too soon, and Ryoma was jerked awake by the loud girl in front of him, who requested/demanded that he have lunch with his fan club. Feigning any non-existent ailment he could think about, Ryoma limped to the infirmary, Blue box in hand.

Worst idea he could ever think of. The nurse insisted on giving Ryoma a health checkup, and almost fainted when he saw the bandages on his arms. Ryoma fled while the nurse had his back to him, and ran as fast as his feet could carry him (which wasn't very fast considering his situation).

He was lost, again. Panting against a tree, Ryoma slumped down onto the damp grass, lifting his face to the cool air above him. Inhaling deeply, he sat the box beside him and closed his eyes.

He opened them again, feeling the strange sensation of someone staring at him. His golden orbs found their way into a sea of blue, and he thought out loud.

"Fuji-senpai."

"How did you know it was me?"

"I could recognize you a mile away."

"Saa… is that a complement Ryoma?"

"You wish."

"What are you doing here?"

"Hiding from the doctor… What are _you_ doing here?"

"Playing hide and seek with my friends!" Fuji was smiling once again.

In the background, Ryoma could faintly hear shouts of "Fuji!" and "Syuusuke, where are you!"

"Hnggh, right… Can you get off me now?"

Fuji had his knees on Ryoma's thigh, supporting his entire weight, while his arms were outstretched and on Ryoma's shoulders. Ryoma definitely did not want Fuji's "friends" to come and find them in such a… dubious… position.

"Aah, sure!" Fuji jumped off, leaving Ryoma sitting on the grass. His smile widened as he caught sight of the blue box next to the boy.

"Have you had lunch yet?"

"No…"

"Well then, come with me!"

Ryoma could not help but have a distinct sense of déjà vu as he found himself led by the hand towards the lunchroom. He was too tired to struggle.

As he was brought to the same table, he tried not to look too conspicuous while opening his box; a feat easier said than done due to the excessive amount of tape clamping the lid shut. Finally detaching the box from its cover, he found his treasure, which made all that effort worthwhile. Food!

It was a wonder how Fuji managed to stuff such a large amount of food into that relatively small box. There was rice, vegetables, eggs, sausages, grilled chicken, grapes, and tomatoes. Lovely. What he didn't like was the fact that nearly everything was cut in the shape of hearts. He looked up, only to find the ever smiling Fuji with an expectant look on his face. _Oh well, food is food_. He picked up his chopsticks and began to eat.

He lifted the chopsticks to his lips, biting down on a bell pepper (bell peppers are not spicy) as he did so. As the first taste of the capsicum fell onto his tongue, he stopped. Instead of continuing in his usual vigor, he finished the rest of the lunch slowly, hands that were trembling ever so slightly.

"Is it not good?" Fuji was asking, slightly put out by the boy's lack of enthusiasm.

"It's good… very good," tears came unconsciously to the boy's eyes. As he tried to blink them away, he looked down at his empty lunchbox, wondering how long it had been since he last had one.

Fuji, with his sharp eyes, quickly took notice and he remained silent as the boy packed the box away.

"Thanks," the word was spoken in a small voice, but Fuji heard it, and he smiled.

This tiny moment was broken, with the return of the tennis regulars, who returned from their Fuji-hunt that very moment. Immediately hoisting Echizen onto their shoulders, they berated Fuji for running off without telling them, while simultaneously commenting on Ryoma's various characteristics.

Fuji chuckled, "Saa…"

* * *

(!)

As the students filed back to their respective classrooms, Fuji's eyes followed a certain olive haired freshman, curious. That bento was meant to annoy him, with its heartiness, and yet Ryoma's reaction was one even Fuji could not have expected. The boy loved food, that was true, but even the most passionate food lover would not have been moved to the point of tears just by a single boxed lunch. No, something was amiss.

Sitting down at his desk after lunch, he opened his eyes, earning himself many fearful looks and shudders.

"I wonder…"

* * *

Ryoma entered the empty house on Sakura Drive. Fuji was at afternoon practice. He wondered what their standard was like after training so hard. Stepping into his newly cleaned room, he brought out his homework for the day and laid it out on the desk. How he hated homework. Picking up his pencil, he started attacking the problems, barely using any brain power to complete all the questions.

He was done for math. He moved on to English. Then Science. Then Japanese. Then Japanese Literature. Then Japanese History. Then Geography… His concentration was wavering as he stood up to let the blood reach his lower body. Stretching out his legs, he jumped onto his bed. He felt like having a pillow fight. Burying himself under the bedsheets, he opened his eyes, slightly overwhelmed by the whiteness around him. He wanted a bath.

He stepped into the bathroom, unbuttoning his Seigaku Uniform and throwing it into the sink, before stepping into the shower. He turned it on, and jumped at the sudden stream of ice cold water that hit his bare skin. As the water slowly warmed to a more suitable temperature, he splashed some on his face, enjoying the warmth it gave.

Stooping down to grab a bottle of soap, he stopped, and straightened himself once more. He wanted to enjoy this feeling of standing in the rain. He closed his eyes.

_Five year old Ryoma was running._

"_Wait up!" he shouted to the older boy in front of him._

"_Come catch me chibisuke!" the older boy was laughing._

"_Ryoga!" Ryoma was annoyed. He stamped his foot, earning himself a splash in the face._

_Ryoga had doubled over in laughter, and he ran back to the almost sodden boy._

"_Eew!" Ryoma plucked at his wet and muddy clothing._

_Ryoga jumped in the puddle, splashing them both in muddy water. Ryoma was laughing too. Both of them continued splashing their way home._

_Rinko was at the door, ladle in hand and arms held akimbo. She waved the ladle threateningly before pushing both boys into the bathtub, chastising them for their naughty behavior. Her words fell on deaf ears, for her two sons were already occupied._

"_AHHHH! It got into my eye!" Ryoga was screaming as Ryoma squirted some soapy water into his eyes. Ryoma was giggling, Ryoga was flailing his arms, and Rinko was getting drenched and exasperated._

Taking in a deep shuddering breath, Ryoma squeezed some scented soap onto his palm, before scrubbing himself thoroughly. He smelled oranges. _Oranges_.

_Ryoma was seven. The Echizen family was in Florida. The air was thick of citrus as the family entered the grove._

_Following their guide, Ryoga surreptitiously plucked an orange from the flanks of bushes around them. Peeling it, he took a bite and made a face before pushing a wedge into Ryoma's mouth._

"_Sour!" Ryoma exclaimed, before hitting a laughing Ryoga on the stomach, which was about the hightest he could reach. Ryoga pretended to double over in pain, and attracted many stares and glares of tourists. _

_Rinko looked embarrassed while Nanjiroh shook his head._

Ryoma shook the memories out of his head, while rinsing his body of foam. Teetering out of the shower, he dried himself and went to look for some dry clothes.

Slipping out of his towel, he put on a large graphic tee and a pair of shorts before toweling his hair dry. The water straightened his normally messy hair and gave his face an almost girlish look. A girl, he had been mistaken for one countless times now…

"Nnngghh!" he pushed the memory out of his head. Why was Ryoga appearing in his head so much today? He sat down on his bed once more, towel around his shoulders, collecting the drips of water from his wet hair. He dropped backwards onto the mattress, spread eagled and eyes wide open.

It was five thirty.

* * *

Aaaand that's the end of chapter five! Yappie! I feel so guilty for not posting last week so theres two this weekend… hmmm…

Well then, this was kinda longwinded and pointless at some parts but…

Oh and I think I will clarify something about Fuji's and Ryoma's house:

There are four apartments/rooms (only two occupied now). There is a bathroom and coffeemaker in each apartment (exactly like a hotel) and there is a communal kitchen/living area (even more like a hotel)….

I think I have gotten more than my fair share of hotels this past year….

Oh well, love you all! (phrase from my friend) please review if you have extra time!

Luvluvluv

Alice


	6. Chapter 6

HIHIHI another chapter

Nothing much to say… hum dee dum

Do I really have to write a disclaimer, because it seems pretty obvious to me…

Fine then: I do not own prince of tennis, or its characters, or the school. I do own the plot, so if it's similar to some other story then I'm sorry. I do not own fanfiction, though I have no idea who does. I do not own Microsoft, nor its creator, bill gates and co. I do not own the English language, nor the other languages it has been derived from. I do not own Ms Tay, who was my elementary school English teacher, and taught me to use the English language for my own. I do not own Coca-cola, which has sustained me through the nights which I have stayed up to write this story, I do not own…

See what I mean?

* * *

Staring blankly into space, Ryoma sighed. He still had Geography homework to do. Plate tectonics was hardly enjoyable. The front door slammed. Landlord Fuji was back. He didn't bother to straighten himself up, closing his eyes in preparation for the loud entrance he would make.

_Three…Two…One…_

BANG!

The door slammed open, and Ryoma flinched at the loudness of it. Turning his body to face the door, he found himself staring at Fuji, along with the regulars. He blinked.

"What?"

"So Ryoma-kun, these are my friends!"

"Oh," was there even anything else to say to that?

"So this is Ochibi's room, nya?"

Perhaps at the sound of mewing, Karupin came out from under the bed.

"Kawaii, Ochibi has a kitty cat!"

"It's Karupin," Ryoma sat up, "and he's mine." He glared at Eiji, who was petting his (A/N according to Wikipedia, karupin is a He) head. Tapping his fingers together lightly, Ryoma signaled for Karupin to come. Karupin immediately snuggled up to Ryoma's stomach.

Throwing a triumphant look at the amazed tennis regulars, Ryoma scratched a lazy Karupin behind the ear.

"Take them to your room Fuji-senpai."

"Why?" Fuji replied cheerfully, "this room is the biggest."

"No it's not, I still have my rights as a tenant."

"Fuji, let's go," a deep voice was heard from Tezuka.

"Fine, fine, come join us if you want to Ryoma-kun!"

Still smiling, Fuji retreated out of the room. Giving another sigh, Ryoma flopped back down onto the bed, a sluggish Karupin curled in a ball beside him. He tired to ignore the noises of laughter and cheers from the room across the hall. He was beyond bored.

_I really need to get a job._

He got up and walked around the room, before turning himself upside down into a back bend. He had often done this to keep calm. It was not yoga. Yoga was for girls who wanted to get skinny. He was not a girl. He was not anorexic. Feeling the blood rush to his face he kicked himself back upright. He had thought of something to do.

He tiptoed down the stairs, careful not to let Fuji hear, and slipped out of the house in his sneakers. The dry air was slowly sucking the water out of his hair. The gray concrete was bathed in a deep tangerine as the sun slowly set. A few lone cars whizzed past. Browned leaves and pink flowers littered the lawns of the houses on both sides of the street. Vanilla was in the air. Someone was baking. Inhaling deeply, he smelled the cooking of countless families around the area. Children were walking hand in hand with their parents, their lips moving non-stop, no doubt chattering about the day's happenings. Ryoma turned down a street corner. There was a park, empty now as the sun began to set. Seating himself on a swing, he kicked off the ground, propelling himself forward.

The freedom of the swing, the rush of exhilaration he felt as he sailed though the air, legs outstretched, arms gripping the chain tightly.

"_Have you ever wished you could fly?"_

Ryoga's questioned found its way into Ryoma's head once more. He let momentum take over as he relaxed his legs and shoulders.

"_Flying? That's silly."_

His reply had been short, blunt.

"_Who knows?"_

Ryoga had fell silent.

"_What if you fall?"_

"_Then I'll catch you."_

Ryoga's reply had been cheesy, cliché, and even he himself laughed at it later. But Ryoma still found comfort in those three words.

_I'll catch you._

Funny how much difference three words could make. Ryoma glanced up at the darkening sky. _Time to head back._

Sighing as he got off the swing, he brushed the dust off his shorts before making his way down the street.

He felt a pair of eyes on him. Brushing it off as his own overactive imagination, Ryoma ignored it, quickening his steps however. He heard footsteps behind him. He increased his pace. Soon, he was running, not daring to look back. And a hand touched his shoulder.

Spinning around, Ryoma opened his mouth as a scream echoed around the dark street.

A ghost? Fuji opened his eyes at the unprecedented noise. Ryoma was trembling, clearly terrified, on the ground.

"Aah, Ryoma, I was wondering where you went!" Stretching out an arm to help Ryoma up, his blue eyes glinted malevolently.

Ignoring the offered hand, Ryoma pushed himself up, feeling kind of dumb for screaming like a little girl.

"What do you want?" Ryoma said fiercely, trying to regain a little of his dignity.

"Fujiko! What did you do to Ochibi? Don't just think because it's dark you can…"

He stopped as Ryoma and Fuji's combined glares fell on him.

"WAAH! Scary!" he buried his face in Oishi's shoulder.

"Echizen-kun! You want to have dinner with us?"

"Err, I think I have work to do."

"Oh that's too bad then, byee Echizen-kun!"

"Bye!"

"Goodnight!"

"Goodbye."

The team waved goodbye and left Ryoma on the street again, and he trudged back home. Seating himself at the study table again, he picked up where he left off on Geography and started writing. His heart wasn't there though. His usually straight, small print was now written in crooked lines around the page. He cursed and picked up his eraser, rubbing it fiercely against the white paper.

Mount Kilimanjaro.

Mount St Helens.

Mount Everest.

Mount Vesuvius.

Mount Kilimanjaro again.

Crust. Mantle. Magma. Lava. Pompeii.

"AHHHHH DAMN ALL GEOGRAPHIC FEATURES ON EARTH!"

He stood up and kicked his chair, hard. The chair fell, and so did he. As he sat on the floor, one hand supporting his weight, the other hand massaging his bruised foot (which was still in stitches), he gritted his teeth, wondering why he had ever selected Geography in his subject combinations in the first place.

"Go and die stupid Sensei!"

Throwing his damp hair backward and bending his knees slightly, he arched his back and took a long, deep breath.

Fuji opened the door. He knew the boy would be hungry at this time. More importantly, he wanted to see him stuff his face until it was nearly deformed. He raised his eyebrows at the sight of Ryoma in such a provocative pose.

Ryoma brought his head up.

"What?" his voice was dripping with anger, but Fuji remained smiling, though careful not to throw him off the edge.

Without answering, he raised a red plastic bag, letting his actions speak for themselves.

"Oh." Jumping up, he grabbed the packet, set it on the table, and promptly started eating.

"fanks." He said through a mouthful of food. Sushi.

Fuji sat on Ryoma's soggy sheets and sighed.

"Ryoma, don't sit on the bed when your hair is wet. Mould will grow."

"Mmmfff." He was now attacking a particularly stubborn piece of eel.

Frowning, Fuji caught sight of shredded paper on the floor. He bent down, and caught a slip of paper, evidently from the corner of a worksheet. Seishun was printed in large bold letters, and the 'Gakuen' as well as the school crest was torn cleanly into two.

"Hey, Ryoma?"

"hmmm?"

"Is this yours?"

Ryoma reluctantly pulled his mouth away from a large wrapped rice ball and turned around. Seeing the mauled paper in Fuji's hand, he paled and snatched it up, examining the torn piece of work.

"WHAT THE-"

He stopped, as if just registering Fuji's presence.

"Oh, that must have been an accident." He gave an annoyed look, "I'll just re do it." Sitting back down onto his chair, he continued to eat.

"It's torn." Fuji pointed out.

"So? Ever heard of adhesive tape?"

Fuji opened his eyes. Ryoma sounded cold.

"Mada mada dane Fuji-senpai." Ryoma smirked. (A/N finally )

* * *

Fuji, remembered. Somehow that three word phrase made jerked tennis back into his head. Mada mada dana... _**Was he a fan of Samurai Nanjiroh?**_

"You up for a tennis match?"

"No." Ryoma replied flatly.

"You said you played."

"Somewhat."

"That's still counted."

"You're in the regular team. I can't defeat you." Personally, Ryoma was very sure he could beat this girly senpai of his, but it was not good to say it now.

"Who says you have to defeat me?"

"What's the point in playing then?"

"If you win then someone must be defeated." Fuji argued.

"I'm fine as long as that person isn't me."

Fuji was, to say the least, surprised, at his tenant's strange philosophy, but he kept silent. The Sushi was slowly reduced to nothingness and the Styrofoam packing boxes found their way into the garbage can.

"Thanks Fuji-san, It was good."

"Don't thank me, thank your Taka-senpai, his father runs the store.

"Oh, thank him for me then."

"Why don't you thank him yourself? We have practise tomorrow!" Fuji smiled brightly.

Ryoma couldn't refuse the person who had just brought him food three times in a row.

"Uh, okay..."

"Great! I'll see you at the tennis courts tomorrow afternoon then! Bye Ryoma-kun!" he turned and closed the door softly behind him, leaving Ryoma contemplating on his own stupidity.

_Oh come on, how bad can it get?_

* * *

The next day came without further drama, and Ryoma slipped into another set of Fuji's uniforms, feeling extremely guilty for being so reliant on him. He had his food provided, his housing provided, and even the uniforms he wore were provided by Fuji. _Maybe I should rethink his offer. _He may have liked it sometimes, but he did not feel too uncomfortable taking things from others, particularly someone he barely knows personally.

Picking up his bag, he rushed down the stairs, hair still as messy as ever. The kitchen door was wide open, and Ryoma could see a bright yellow box sitting on the table this time. _Should I take it?_ He was doubtful. He didn't want to be a parasite to Fuji. But he really had nothing to eat that day, the cafeteria being under construction. Sighing with resignation, he bagged the yellow box with his name written on in bright red, and, with misgivings, left the house.

The walk to school was the usual. Though no one on his street went to Seigaku, there were still many other students, some from elementary schools, other middle schools, and even kindergarten. Kicking a pebble out of his path, he watched as it came into contact with the ground a few metres ahead and landed with a 'klunk' noise.

The black metal gates were open, meaning that he was on time for school. He bowed to the teacher at the gate and entered. He had gotten the hang of the building by now, and managed to get to his classroom without getting lost.

He dropped his bag on his chair and then sat down, head supported by his hand, a permanent bored look plastered on his face.

"He... hey..." Ryoma turned to his right in vague surprise, this girl wasn't the red haired pigtailed one.

"Who are you?"

"Oh I'm Mizuki, Takamura Mizuki, I'm your new seatmate," the girl with bleached blonde hair gushed.

He ignored her, choosing instead to stare at the whiteboard. He wondered what they did to that girl to force her to give up her seat.

Class began. Ryoma sighed.

* * *

Staring blankly into space, Ryoma, debated on whether to eat the bento. He was hungry, yes, but he was taking advantage of Fuji, was he not? Anyway, a normal landlord shouldn't be bothering on doing these things, or was Fuji only doing it because he was his Junior? His stomach gave a loud growl. He was very hungry now, but he couldn't bring himself to eat it. He would talk to Landlord Fuji about this in the afternoon, maybe he could go to the supermarket as well.

* * *

As the students filed in for lunch, they saw a sleeping Ryoma on at his desk. If he wasn't going to eat, he might as well conserve his energy.

His stomach felt empty as he head down to the tennis courts after school. The noon sun was scorching, and Ryoma felt like taking off his shirt. It was safer to just unbutton a few buttons. Loosening his collar, he sat down on the benches next to the courts and waited. Maybe, just maybe, he would allow himself to be Fuji's model. Perhaps he would feel less guilty when he was fed. _Food._

The thought of food made his stomach growl. He stood up, sighing for the umpteenth time, and head down to the drinking fountains. He felt light headed. Swaying slightly, he lost his balance and crashed onto the ground.

"EEEEEEHH? Ochibi?"

Soft footsteps gradually became louder and more violent as Eiji rushed towards the fallen boy.

"Oh my god! Echizen-kun, are you alright?"

"Mmmffine." Ryoma mumbled. He still felt a little dizzy.

Seating himself on the bench again. He asked, "Where's Fuji-senpai? He asked me to be here today." If they said that he wasn't here today, he would be annoyed, very annoyed.

"He's coming right now," Tezuka-buchou's deep voice was reassuring, but Ryoma still felt restless.

"Saa... What is going on?"

"Ochibi fainted nya!" Eiji was enthusiastically recounting the events to Fuji, who's eyebrows were gradually disappearing into his fringe.

"Did you not eat lunch Ryoma-kun?"

"Um..."

"Why not?" Fuji said in a dangerously sweet voice.

"Because... because... I..." Ryoma couldn't think of a valid excuse.

"Eat it." Fuji's voice was scary, and Ryoma pulled the sun yellow box out of his bag, and laid it on his lap.

Looking up at Fuji, he rolled his eyes and broke his chopsticks apart. He still had to be grateful after all.

* * *

"Thank you Taka-senpai, for the sushi yesterday."

"Hehe, no problem Echizen-kun, they were leftovers anyway."

"Oh, but thanks anyway."

Ryoma jumped as Taka-senpai suddenly jumped up and started shouting about fires, sprinting around the courts.

"Err, is he...?"

"No, he's not." Fuji replied, in answer to Ryoma's unfinished question.

"..."

"Twenty laps everyone!" Tezuka buchou called. Groaning, the team started running. Ryoma remained on the bench, sitting next to Tezuka-buchou.

"Echizen-kun, you said you played tennis, am I right?"

"I used to, but I stopped" Ryoma confessed.

"Why?"

Ryoma remained silent.

"Echizen?"

"Oh nothing, I just thought of something I had to do at home, see you tomorrow Tezuka-senpai."

"Oh, bye," Tezuka had his eyes fixed on the running regulars, ready to catch those who were slacking off.

Slinging his bag over his shoulder, he paused. He put it back down on the bench. Fishing around for some pens and paper, he scribbled something and folded the torn sheet into quarters.

"Um, Tezuka-senpai," Ryoma said tentatively.

"Yes?" Tezuka asked, eyes still on the regulars.

"Could you pass this to Fuji-senpai after he's done?"

"Oh, okay," Tezuka replied, slightly surprised. He accepted the folded paper and tucked it into his pocket.

"Thanks." With that, Ryoma turned and left, his bag hanging across one shoulder.

A pair of blue eyes saw this, and frowned.

* * *

"Hey, Tezuka,"

"Hmm?"

"What did Ryoma-kun give to you?"

"Oh he asked me to pass this to you." Tezuka extracted the paper from his shirt pocket. He had nearly forgotten.

"Aah, thank you." Fuji packed his things, while holding the paper securely between two fingers. Shutting his locker, he bade his teammates farewell before leaving, eyes curiously scanning the now unfolded piece of paper.

_I accept __your offer, but I still have the right to back out whenever I want to._

_Echizen._

Short, brief, concise, it was so Ryoma, but Fuji understood. He would enjoy tomorrow's photoshoot very much

"Saa..."

* * *

And so, another chapter has come to an end. I'll be gone for camp from friday to Sunday, so i thought i should post this now

Just to say, Fuji and Ryoma are not in love with each other yet (Unfortunately..?) I hope it won't drag out too long, but i want the process to be gradual (But i think i'm failing)

I don't really want an "I Love you! You love me! Let's kiss and get married!" sort of story... seems kind of shallow to me, though I still enjoy reading them YAY

Luv, luv, luv

Midnight Circus


	7. Chapter 7

Oyazz! Back from Camp! It was Great! But we got scolded a lot cos we couldn't do the moves right… owell, nevah mind, it's over anyway…

Another chapter!

And 30+ reviews! Ehehehe. I'm so happy

Oh and Ryoga does not appear much in the story for a reason (*hint**hint*) but I guess he'll have to… probably sometime later.

Well, I hope you enjoy this!

* * *

Friday, the last day of the school week. Ryoma took his time packing his things, knowing full well that a certain someone would stop him from getting home anyway.

Or someone's.

"Hoi hoi! Let's get Ochibi to practice nya!"

Having Eiji fetch him was worse than Fuji, and that, was saying something.

"Ei… Eiji-sama," the blonde girl stuttered, "what are you… I a big fan… Can I have your autograph?"

Having the entire tennis team come was a complete disaster.

"Hmm, Echizen, come with us."

Dumping the last of his papers into the bag, Ryoma grabbed its handle and stormed out of the class. They were embarrassing him, not that it mattered, but he would be cornered by salivating fangirls tomorrow, and that, was to say the least, undesirable.

"Let's go." Ryoma said stiffly, crossing his arms and taking off down the corridor.

"So uncute, nya," Eiji said, chasing after the boy. A loud 'oomf' was heard a few moments later, and the team took liberty to increasing their pace slightly.

What they saw caused even Tezuka to raise his eyebrows.

"ARRGH! GERROFF MEE!" Ryoma was thrashing about on the floor.

"AHH! HELP! I'M STUUCK!" Eiji had his collar caught on one of Ryoma's buttons.

Fuji could not help but chuckle, "Saa… Eiji, don't think just because no one's here that you can…"

"AHHHH! IDIOT EIJI! DON"T TEAR IT!"

After a few minutes of struggling and shouting, they managed to dislodge a disheveled Eiji from a traumatized Ryoma, who looked as if he would never set foot near Eiji ever again in his life. Panting, faces red, the two sat three metres away from each other, Ryoma glaring at Eijii venomously, and Eiji massaging his neck.

"Oow, that hurts!"

The rest of the team, were either trying to help but failing miserably by bursting into sudden peals of laughter, or doing nothing at all.

Fuji, fell into the latter category, in fact he seemed to be clearly enjoying himself. Ryoma was about to make a cutting remark to Eiji about the uniform when he stopped. It was a gift. He turned instead to face the team.

"What? You're not going to do anything?"

"Oh, sorry." Stretching out a hand, Inui pulled Ryoma to his feet. He dusted himself off, relieved to find that the corridor was still empty. Muttering curses and threats to his "friends", he took off.

"Hmm, I never knew Echizen had such colorful language…"

"Hey! Echizen! We have practice!"

Ryoma turned his head, "I know," he walked off, rubbing his slightly sore stomach.

Fuji frowned. Ryoma didn't seem like the kind of person to walk out of a deal.

* * *

_How annoying. Stupid senpai. Stupid locker._ He punched the metal door. He had forgotten the combination again. No amount of insults or blows would convince the door to magically unlock on its own. Finally, with no other choice, he left for the custodian.

He could make out the sound of whacking tennis balls as he walked past the open windows. Flipping his head to face the opposite direction, he willed his ears to block out the sound.

"Again?" the custodian almost shouted in exasperation, "Write it down somewhere!"

"But I lost paper I wrote it on!"

"Then tell someone!"

"But then that person will tell everyone! And _you_ know the combination."

Hunching his shoulders in defeat, the poor custodian took out the yellow binder and flipped through the pages.

"13-05-27."

"13-05-27," repeated Ryoma, just to be sure.

"Yeessss! Now please leave! I want to go home!"

_Geez, he sounds like a kindergartener on the first day of school._

Scribbling down the combination on a slip of paper, he tucked it into his pocket.

Strolling down the mercifully empty corridors, he tried not to look at the tennis players in the court again. He sighed. This stupid school was making him get a relapse. He had thought he'd quit tennis for good.

Referring to the torn notebook page in his hand, Ryoma entered the combination into the lock. To his relief, the door swung open.

And Ryoma realized where his sheet of paper had gone to the first time.

"Fuji…" He growled. His locker had been given an extreme makeover, and he knew exactly who the culprit was. Pulling the mirror and cuckoo clock off the door, he slammed the door shut without taking his books out.

To add to his misery, he had locked the combinations into his locker as well.

"You, are so dead." He growled menacingly.

* * *

"FUJI SYUUSUKE! I'M GONNA CHOP YOU INTO MINCED MEAT AND STUFF YOU INTO PIG INTESTINES!" (A/N this is the way traditional Chinese sausages are made, no kidding)

"Looks like someone's angry…" Eiji sang.

"Hey! You can't just run in and disturb prac…" Ryoma turned to the boy speaking, and he immediately shrank down and ran off. Ryoma had a scary look in his eyes.

"Sorry Ryoma-kun, I thought you forgot our little agreement."

"DO I LOOK LIKE I'M 70?"

"No, but you do tend to forget things. And that's so ageist Ryoma…"

"I DO NOT FORGET THINGS!" Ryoma hollered, completely forgetting the event that just occurred ten minutes ago.

"Well, I thought maybe you needed a little push!" he grinned mischievously and whipped out a camera. The shutter fluttered once. Twice.

"ARRGH!"

"Yep, just like that! You look so cute Ryoma!"

Ryoma made a blind swipe at the camera, which only succeeded in getting two more snapshots of himself. Sighing in resignation, he stared into the camera blankly.

"Oh well, it's not fun anymore. Anyway, now that you're here, come watch practice!" Fuji pulled Ryoma towards the regulars courts. Too tired and too hoarse to retaliate, Ryoma allowed himself to be led away.

"Everyone! Ryoma's here again!" Fuji called out cheerfully. Seating Ryoma on the wooden bench, he set off to join the other regulars, only to be called out by Tezuka and assigned to thirty laps.

_I should take lessons from him._ Unzipping his bag again, he took out the day's homework and started on math, again. Math helped him to clear his mind from all other annoyances, mainly because it was the biggest annoyance on earth.

_The distance of a person from a tower is 100 m and the angle subtended by the top of the tower with the ground is 30__o__. Find the height of the tower in meters._

After a moment of careful speculation, Ryoma scribbled down the answer. He frowned. It didn't feel right. Whipping out his calculator, he redid all the calculations, only to find that he had missed a '0'. Rubbing out the previous answer viciously, Ryoma penned down his final answer.

Unbeknownst to him, a single blue eye was watching him intently through a viewfinder. Ryoma returned to the rest of the Trigonometry questions, feeling a bit stupid as he did the exact same calculations over and over again.

"USE YOUR DUNK SMASH MOMO!" A loud shout brought Ryoma's head snapping upward, as he turned just in time to see a spectacular smash from his violet haired senpai.

"Don!"

Ryoma raised his eyabrows. _Hey, Momo-senpai isn't bad… _He continued to watch the game, homework virtually forgotten. Seeing Ryoma finally interested, Fuji stepped closer.

"That was Momo's famous dunk smash. Is it good?"

"He's not bad." Ryoma replied nonchalantly.

"Hmmm?"

"I've seen better."

"Really…"

The game went on for another five minutes, until Momoshiro finally emerged as the winner.

"Sorry kid, better luck next time!" He rummaged through his bag for a bottle, "So, Echizen, what do you think?"

Ryoma smirked, "Not bad, but in terms of technique you are still mada mada."

"WHAT? Did I not impress you with my awesome skills?"

"No," Ryoma replied shortly, "Nice smash you got there though."

Momoshiro's face broke into a smile, "It is, isn't it?" he said pompously.

Ryoma didn't reply, turning his attention back to the problematic paper on his lap.

"So, you said you play tennis?" Momo tried to make conversation.

"Somewhat," Ryoma made his usual reply to the question.

"You want a game?" Momo asked cheekily.

"No," he had a bored look on his face, "lost interest."

Fuji furrowed his brows. _Lost interest, huh? I wonder… _Making his way to the court, he whispered something to the captain.

"What? Now?"

The brunette nodded.

Tezuka frowned.

Fuji stared.

Tezuka sighed and picked up his racquet.

Fuji grinned triumphantly.

Momo wondered what Fuji was up to now.

"Momo! Help us keep score!"

"Okay!" He shot up towards the chair.

Ryoma ignored this exchange, choosing, instead, to devote his mind to a particularly infuriating graph.

The game begun, and the smacking of tennis balls was really getting to Ryoma's nerves. He could not concentrate. Lifting his head to make a snide remark, he saw Fuji, eyes wide open and fierce, and Tezuka, still as determined as ever. These were no ordinary players. He could tell. Ryoma was captivated.

And he wasn't the only one. It seemed like the entire club and remaining parts of the school was also watching. Ryoma could hear whispers behind him.

But neither of them were playing to their full potential, Tezuka wasn't even panting. _How boring… _As if to prove him wrong, Fuji lowered his racquet. And he hit the ball.

The yellow tennis ball soared through the air, and landed. _Not much difference_. And then it rolled.

Ryoma blinked. Were his eyes playing tricks on him? Then his eyes widened, and he smirked. _So that's what it was, huh?_

"Was that the Tsubame Gaeshi?"

"Yes I think so."

"Wow, he really is a Tensai!"

_Tensai?_

Exited whispers were erupting behind him, and one overenthusiastic fan screamed, "GO FUJI!"

Watching the yellow ball, motionless against the green court, Ryoma was gripped by a sudden desire to pick up Momo's fallen racquet at his feet. _I want to play! _He was clenching his fist, his heart unconsciously racing as he watched the game progress.

A drop shot. Ryoma eyes were filled with excitement as he awaited Fuji's next move. He was disappointed. Fuji didn't move at all. The ball, however, rolled towards the net. Ryoma clutched the paper in his hands, crumpling it. _I want to play! _He watched as Fuji's smash suddenly cut to the right. _I want to play! _Tezuka seemed to have already predicted this, and moved just as quickly.

Fuji cut a quick glance at his new interest. He was pleased with what he saw. Ryoma had his full attention devoted to the game, and a determined smile adorned his face. His golden, cat-like eyes were watching intently. How he wanted his camera right then.

Fuji smiled. His job was done. Strolling off the court, he was met with indignant cries and calls to continue playing. Tezuka, on the other side of the court, did not seem at all perturbed, and he packed up as well.

_What? Why did he stop?_ Ryoma wanted to see more, and that was hardly enough to satisfy him. He stared once again at the racquet on the ground. He resisted the temptation to jump up and challenge the two of them to a match. _For Ryoga? But dad asked me to come because of tennis… _Ryoma shook the conflicting thoughts out of his head. He wasn't going to play. He returned to the wrinkled paper. The questions did not seem to register in his mind as the techniques from the match replayed in his head_. Tsubame Gaeshi huh? What is the value of y when x is 3.5, assuming that it intersects… More spin, slices… y=3__x__2__+5__x-7… _

The jumble of math and tennis in his head succeeded in getting him sufficiently dizzy, and he laid his head back on the bench. _I don't know what to do anymore_… A pair of devious blue eyes saw this. Fuji strode up to the boy, and was surprised to find him in a state of utter confusion.

"So, boring…?" Fuji teased. Ryoma's eyes snapped open, and he stared at his senpai with newfound respect.

"No…" he said slowly, as if just realising the truth. Fuji picked up Momo's racquet.

"I'm sure Momo won't mind if you use his racquet." He dropped it into Ryoma's lap.

Ryoma glared at Fuji. Holding the racket in his one hand, he stood up and walked in Momo's direction.

Seeing that the boy needed more than just gentle persuasion, Fuji took a tennis ball from the bench and flung it, hard, in Ryoma's direction.

Almost immediately, Ryoma raised the racquet, and moved his head a few inches to the left. The ball whizzed past his ear and hit the racquet. Upon impact, the racquet was lowered. All this happened in the space of a few seconds, and Ryoma stared at the racquet in genuine shock.

_**Saa… so he did it unconsciously…**_

Fuji eyed the freshman in interest. He was sure that the boy could play tennis. And he was proven right. The rest of the team, however, had no such preconception, and they all started whispering all at once.

"Ochibi! You can play tennis nya?" Ryoma dodged this running packet of enthusiasm, and inched sideways off the court, dropping the racquet at his feet, much to the annoyance of Momoshiro.

"Hey! Echizen!"

Ryoma stood, blinking, the consequences of his actions just registering in his head_. Uh oh_…

"ECHIZEN! YOU WANT A GAME?" Momoshiro was gesticulating wildly. Ryoma looked at the racquet, then at the court, then the tennis balls, then the net, then Tezuka, then the regulars, then Fuji.

And all at once, all remaining logic in Ryoma evaporated as his mind fixed on a single thought. _Tennis._

* * *

(A/N I'm not that cruel as to leave it hanging there…)

Ryoma clutched the racquet handle, an uncharacteristically firm expression.

_**A game? I wonder…**_

Ryoma stood slightly bent forward on the court.

"Smooth." He drawled.

"Better luck next time!" Momoshiro picked up Oishi's racquet and threw the ball into the air. The ball was hit to the ground with abnormal force.

Sprinting in the direction of the ball, Ryoma hit a lob back towards the baseline.

"A lob? He's going to die…"

Momoshiro hit his dunk smash. _Heh, just as predicted_… Ryoma turned to watch the ball rolling off the court. There was a glint in his eyes.

_**On purpose?**_

Ryoma was thrilled. He hadn't played a tennis match in ages. It was his serve now. He didn't want to hold back. He was playing for the first time in god knows how long. Throwing the ball into the air, he hit it, hard, pulling his racquet downwards as he did so. As Momoshiro positioned himself to hit the ball, he was surprised by a sudden yellow blur hurtling towards his face.

"What the—" the violet haired tennis player instinctively turned to dodge the ball. As he turned to face his formidable opponent, he was greeted with an astonishing sight.

Ryoma was panting, not because of exhaustion, but excitement. He wore a face of sheer ecstasy, as he shook his green locks out of his face.

"Mada mada dane." (A/N oh glorious phrase)

A chilling silence descended upon the regulars as they watched the match advance to its climax. None of them dared say a word.

The freshman continued to astonish the regulars.

_**Twist serve? Drop volley?**_

And then he paused. He flung the racquet into his left hand.

_**Echizen Ryoma, you never cease to amaze me…A left hander?**_

"Wait, time! That's enough, let's stop this game. I'll let you go with this, heh," (A/N Okay, basically a replay of the manga)

"What? NOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Eiji's wail resounded through the entire school.

"Saa…"

"Fshuuu"

"data…"

"If only your ankle wasn't injured, I could have played more you know," Ryoma said.

"So you know the whole time, huh."

"Mada mada dane." (A/N starting to get a bit cliché…)

"Hey! Don't go easy on me next time!"

Ryoma ignored him and picked up his bag. As he left the courts, he turned around and blew a loud, wet raspberry.

"ARRGH! You make me so mad!"

_**Echizen Ryoma, you are one enigmatic freshman**_…

* * *

AND that's don! (geddit, a pun there)

Sorry, I'm a bit wonky at the moment… and I hope all my comments in the form of authors notes in the middle didn't impede the progression of the story!

Well then, nothing much more to say now …

I'm sorry if there are some spelling or grammar mistakes! I proofed it twice but…

Haha, almost 35 reviews now!

Luvluvluv

MC


	8. Chapter 8

AHHHH! Omigod omigod omigod!

Haha tricked you there. Nothing much happened. Well, i'll get this chapter started early...

Anyway, I was spazzing in front of the computer while reading everything and my sister was looking at me strangely. She probably thinks I'm chatting with a non-existent boyfriend... well,

Enjoy!

* * *

_So. I played. A game. Not bad. Not bad at all Ryoma. Just one week here and your self control has completely dissolved._

Mentally cursing himself, he walked back to 53 Sakura Drive, Fuji humming silently beside him.

And worst of all, no matter how he tried to deny it, he knew that he had enjoyed himself, perhaps more than ever before... _ARRGH! What do I do now? What about Ryoga?_

He clenched his fists to ease the trembling of his arms.

"Are you okay?" Fuji's voice sounded concerned.

"I'm fine." Ryoma said curtly. He felt guilty for taking out his anger on Fuji. Fuji wasn't the one who made him play. _If anyone, it should be Momo_ he thought darkly. He couldn't realise how wrong he was.

* * *

"So, what is this supposed to be, Fuji-senpai?"

"Your dinner," the chuckle was evident in his voice.

"Yes and it is?"

"Instant ramen, you know, the kind that—"

"I know what instant ramen is, thank you very much, but this is NOT instant ramen."

"Yes it is."

"It may have been, but looking at this, I highly doubt it."

"Oh I assure you Ryoma-kun, it is."

Ryoma stared at the bowl of 'instant ramen' before him. It hardly looked like it at all. It probably started off as a packet of noodles, but after everything Fuji had done to it, it had turned into some sort of exotic dish one would not be surprised to find in a restaurant.

"And this is?" Ryoma raised his chopsticks.

Fuji looked up from his bowl, "Shrimp," he said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Riiiiiiiiiiight," Ryoma said sceptically, "and I'm supposed to find shrimp in instant ramen because?"

"Because I added it?" Fuji replied in the same tone.

Ryoma raised his chopsticks again.

"Shanghai cabbage."

Again.

"Poached egg."

"Shinachiku."

"Salted Beef."

"Shitake mushrooms. Honestly Ryoma, were you starved at home?"

"No, but I didn't find these in my 'instant ramen' either."

"Well, enjoy it while you can!"

Not like he had any other food supply. Ryoma lifted the curly noodles from the ceramic bowl, twanging it slightly to let the excess soup drip down. Twisting the chopsticks to let the noodles form into a ball, he stuffed it into his mouth. (A/N you know, the way you eat spaghetti?) He then continued this process, though at a much higher rate.

"So," Ryoma managed to say between mouthfuls, "about that little 'agreement' that we had."

"What little 'agreement'?" Fuji asked in mock surprise. Ryoma scowled.

"Oh that," Fuji chuckled, "well, you did agree to be my model."

"Yes, but you only took photos of me shouting my head off, and I would not appreciate it if you started marketing it to my stalkers."

How wrong could the freshman get? He had taken other photos too...

"Is that the first thing that comes to mind?" Fuji asked, raising his eyebrows.

"Yes Fuji-senpai, and I think you're quite capable of doing so."

Ryoma glared at Fuji menacingly, an effect which was immediately lost as he stuffed another mouthful of noodles into his mouth and started chewing violently.

"Well, I agreed to do this only because you are paying for my food AND my school uniforms."

"They were second hand."

"The fact remains that I did not pay for them, and you did."

"Two years ago."

"However, I do value my privacy, and if those pictures ever leave that room of yours—"

Ryoma had put more noodles in his mouth.

"I think I get the gist of it," Fuji said, still smiling, "You agreed to be my model for how long?"

"As long as you are providing for my food. Take this as a mutual exchange?" Ryoma slurped up another chopstick-ful of noodles.

"Okay!" Fuji replied cheerfully.

"And I'm free to back out any time?"

Fuji paused, "Sure!" he said, just as brightly.

"Then that's fine with me." Ryoma lifted the bowl and swallowed the bits of noodle missed by his scourging chopsticks. Finishing the soup in one gulp, he stood up and walked to the sink, filling it with water before rinsing it thoroughly. Ryoma picked up the soapy sponge and lightly scrubbed the inside of the bowl. There was a decorative painting of a field daisies in the bottom. And there was a boy, with dark brown hair, sitting among the yellow and white. _Pretty._

"Hmmm?"

_Oh shit_. He hadn't realised that he'd said it out loud.

Fuji had walked up next to him, "yes it is, isn't it? It was handmade."

"By who?" Ryoma studied the picture. It couldn't have been by...

"By my sister!" he smiled.

"You have a sister?" _Big surprise._

"Mmm hmm," Fuji stacked up the plates, "she really likes this sort of thing."

"I can tell. Oh well, I might as well do the rest of the dishes." He lifted the plates from Fuji's arms and placed them into the sink as well, the peaceful picture of the daisy fields fresh in his mind.

He left the plates on the drainer, too lazy to dry them by hand. Humming under his breath, he unzipped his bag and laid out the day's homework on the desk. Well, he had finished math, now on to English.

The work was easy, and Ryoma skimmed through it while writing the answers on a sheet of lined paper. He had almost finished when he heard a knock on the door.

Sighing, Ryoma said, "What? Come in."

As usual, Fuji was there.

He had beenbored. With nothing else to do, Fuji had decided to come for his daily dose of "solve the mystery of the new boy" something that annoyed Ryoma immensely. This newfound attention was almost creepy as his landlord appeared in the most unusual places, the most normal of which being the cupboard under the kitchen sink.

"I'm back!"

"Oh the joy."

"Don't be so mean Ryoma-kun, I know you missed me."

"For what? Ten minutes?" Ryoma replied. Blowing his bangs out of his eyes, he continued to write.

_I can describe Ms S. as a determined person, because..._

"Hey, what is this?"

"Don't look around my room you moron!" Ryoma growled, turning around to face Fuji.

Fuji, on the other hand, was busy examining a fairly large, clay model of an apple, painted bright red with lime green leaves.

"And that's mine."

"Did you make this yourself, Ryoma-kun?" Fuji asked, completely ignoring his last comment.

"No, and could you stop touching it, it's very fra—GILEE!" his voice rose to a shout as the apple rolled off its stand and off the shelf.

With his quick reflexes, Fuji managed to catch it before it hit any hard surface, but Ryoma was not taking any more chances. Marching towards Fuji, he yanked the apple out of his hands and placed it carefully back on its stand.

"Mine," he growled dangerously. He finally understood why he was the only tenant in the house.

"Fine, fine," Fuji raised his arms in surrender, "you win."

Still glaring fiercely at Fuji, Ryoma returned to his swivelling chair and sat down, earning a loud squeak from the chair. He moved to a more comfortable position. Another louder squeak.

"Oh for heaven's sake, would you shut up!"

"I didn't say anything," Fuji pointed out.

"Wasn't talking to you." Ryoma muttered, picking clicking his pen.

"Ahh, chair talker."

"What on earth?"

With a perfectly serious expression on his face, Fuji said, "A chair talker is a person, who is under the delusion that he can communicate with chairs, and that the chairs can talk back. A chair talker—"

"Doesn't exist."

Smacking a palm to his forehead, Ryoma kept silent for a moment, before bursting into peals of laughter.

"Chair talkers are no laughing matter Ryoma-kun. And I think you should get a check-up, chair talkers normally exhibit other symptoms like..." Fuji trailed off, remembering the incident that happened not long ago.

"Like?" Ryoma prompted, he was starting to think Fuji was more than just a little queer.

"Like tuberculosis." Fuji finished with the first thing that came to mind.

"Oh very well then, I will be more vigilant in dusty places. And speaking of checkups, when can I get this thing off? He gestured to the stitches on his ankle."

"Hmm, I'd say another five days."

"And I don't trust your judgement."

"How rude."

"Tensai." Ryoma teased.

Fuji frowned, "Chair talker." **_Now, who did he hear that from?_**

"Person with artistic sister."

"It runs in the family you know."

"And that's supposed to mean?"

"And here I was thinking you were smart."

"You—"

Ryoma huffed. Picking up his pen again, he realised that he had not finished a single question since Fuji entered the room.

"May I show you the door?"

"I think I know where that is, thank you." Fuji replied amiably.

"Well either walk through the door willingly, or I'll kick you out. That way," he gestured to the open window.

"Why?" Fuji whined.

"You're distracting me from my work!"

"Saa... Am I that eye-catching?"

"What does that have to do with anything? Now please get out!"

Just like any other meeting in Ryoma's room, it ended with Fuji whining outside the door, while an extremely annoyed Ryoma trying to block out the sound with sheer power of hand.

_Finally, stupid comprehension finished_. He moved on to Japanese. The sky was now darkening as the day slowly drew to a close. Turning on his lamp, he continued working. He sighed. An essay.

_1. Describe in detail, how your life has changed in your 13/14 years of childhood. Give examples of your personal experiences._

_2. With regards to the current ageing population, how do you think that we can help? What measures do you think that the government should put in place to facilitate this ageing population? _

_3. Living in dormitories can increase the independence of students. State your stand. Give reasons for your statements. Do you then, support students living in dormitories?_

Banging his head repeatedly on the table, Ryoma struggled to string the Kanji characters together as he tried to form cohesive sentences. _What was the character for old again? _He racked his brains, he knew he knew the character, but it just wouldn't come to mind. Tired of sitting on a squeaky chair gesticulating stupidly while waiting for the word to pop up, Ryoma reached for a dictionary.

_Aah, so that's what it was.._. He copied the character onto his paper as he tried to switch his brain from English to Japanese mode. After five minutes of intense struggling with unfamiliar text, Ryoma gave up on the question. He crumpled the paper and decided to switch to the third option.

He had personal experience anyway.

"What do you think I should write about, Karupin?" Ryoma mumbled to the small bundle that had hopped onto his lap, scratching the cat absently behind the ear. He snickered.

_Cat talker._

* * *

The arrival of dusk brought Ryoma into the shower half an hour earlier than usual leaving his unfinished essay on the desk.

With a beige towel wrapped around his waist, he inspected the bathroom for a moment, and decided he wanted a bath. Porting a generous amount of soap into the white porcelain, he ran the water, watching in satisfaction as the foamy bubbles started to form.

Swishing it around slowly with his left hand, he felt his mind getting fuzzy as he smelt the intoxicating scent of the soap. Karupin leapt into the foaming inferno and gave a shriek. Ryoma giggled. _Did I just giggle? This soap is really messing with my brains._

As the water reached the suitable height, Ryoma hung the towel on a hook and sank into the miniature pond he had created. He dipped his entire body under the foam, relishing in the warmth that hugged his skin. He inhaled. He exhaled. A regular pattern.

Seeing a mildly disgruntled Karupin eyeing the bathtub with some jealousy, Ryoma chuckled. He tapped his fingers together again, and waited. Karupin was torn between the desire to be with his master, and his intense dislike of the soapy water. Ryoma laughed again. Karupin seemed less unsure as he hopped onto the side of the white bathtub, and onto his master's hair.

"Ow! That hurts Karupin," He laughed as he watched the cat attempt to dodge the sprays of water that Ryoma occasionally threw into his head. Shaking his head slightly, Ryoma put his hands up to dislodge his cat from his head, a feat easier said than done, considering the fact that all cats have claws. As his wet hands came into contact with Karupin's fur, the cat jumped violently, digging his nails into Ryoma's scalp and neck.

Yelling in surprise, Ryoma lost his grip on the rails and slipped into the large bathtub. With no island now to sit on, Karupin was now fully submerged in the water, thrashing about, all the while scratching Ryoma, who was laughing and yelling at the same time.

Hearing the ruckus from the next room, Fuji shot up from his chair, he couldn't allow another incident like last time to occur...

Twisting the key impatiently in the lock, he pushed the door open. The room was empty, but the noise was obviously coming from the bathroom. Without a moment's hesitation, he opened the bathroom door, only to have a large dollop of foam fly towards his face. Dodging it, he turned to face the scene. It wasn't what he had expected. Ryoma was sitting half naked in the bathtub. Or rather, the half that Fuji could see was bare.

Raising his eyebrows at the, curious, sight, Fuji chuckled, causing Ryoma to turn. He had finally managed to get a grip on his cat, but promptly plopped it back into the water as he caught sight of a smiling brunette, blue eyes wide open and examining the boy in the bathtub.

Snapping out of his trance, Fuji's face broke into a sadistic smile as his hands reached for the camera always clipped onto his belt...

Another yell, another shriek, and it was impossible to tell between cat and boy as a huge spray of water and foam was directed to the door. Closing the door on the incoming slew of the semi-liquid mass, Fuji stepped backwards. This could be dangerous.

The boy had seemed to locate his cat again, and judging by the loud yell that followed, he had just been scratched again.

The door opened to reveal a very snooty Karupin, followed by a very irritated Ryoma, a face demanding an explanation.

"Saa, that would have been such a great photo." Fuji remarked cheerfully.

"Fuji-senpai, that is called child pornography."

"Then all those ancient European frescoes would be as well?"

"Well, they aren't children for one, and I think that the people featured in the fresco actually consented, or were a figment of the artist's imagination. Since I am neither, you have no right in making a 'fresco' of me."

"Hai… hai…" Fuji said, "That bathrobe looks like a kimono."

Ryoma's expression was blank, "Kimono… hey! Isn't that for girls?"

"… Oh well, now that you're wearing something." Before Ryoma could react, Fuji had pulled out a black camera and snapping away as if his life depended on it.

"Hey, HEY! Stop that!"

"You agreed to be my model."

"Yes, and I thought it would be a more," Ryoma pondered a suitable word, "glamorous job."

"Then that wouldn't be fun anymore, would it? Anyway, you look cute when you're angry. Carry on, pretend I'm not here."

"ARRRGGHHHH—" Ryoma stopped short and clamped his hands around his mouth. Fuji would just be even more fulfilled if he continued to yell.

"Saa… speak no evil hmm? Very good pose Ryoma-kun."

"Would you just get OUT?" Ryoma's face was still red from the wrestle in the bathroom, and he was soaking wet, not to mention extremely pissed off.

Deciding not to push Ryoma over the cliff of insanity, Fuji decided to comply with this shouted order. He could always come in later…"

Sinking into the swivelling chair, Ryoma buried his face in his hands, feeling extremely put out. And he still had the essay.

_Oh damn it_.

* * *

Oyay! It's finished! How amazing!

Thank YOOOO everyone! Who! Is! Following! This! Story!

I just finished 26.1 mg of sugar, and a pack of gummy worms, so I think that I'm a bit high now...

Oh and, my sister just got her wallet, phone, and iPod stolen today, so here's just a reminder for everyone to be vigilant, and take care of your belongings! (She's really upset)

Please enjoy this chapter (though it's a little late now)

And as you have probably noticed, I like to write bath scenes I think it relaxes me... just writing about it...

Happy 45th national day to Singapore (in 2 days)

Luvluvluv

MC


	9. Chapter 9

YAY! Ryoga appears here! Quite a short time though. But there is a point (if i ever get to use it) but there you go! He's here!

Oh and underlined _italics_ is English. (might be less confusing later)

Enjoy! And thanks for all your reviews! (45! *gasp!*)

Oh and am I the only one who thinks that Atobe sounds like Adobe as in Adobe Photoshop? It probably has no relation though...

* * *

Fuji re-entered at ten thirty. A good time. The boy would either be sleeping or taking another shower (since his first one didn't seem to be of any use). He was right. Ryoma had his head on one arm, lying across a blanket of papers.

Fuji picked one up.

Ryoma's irregular print was scattered haphazardly across the squared paper, a far cry from his straight English handwriting. Peeling off a few sheets covering his face, Fuji's breath hitched as he caught sight of the little angel behind the mask of papers.

And he truly did look like one. Chuckling deviously, Fuji snapped a few pictures from different angles. Raising the boy's head with one finger, he proceeded to take another shot.

"Mmmmfff?"

"Aah, the angel has awoken."

"Who? What? When?"

"Looks like someone's tired."

"Oh."

"What? No scream of fury, no blows of rage?"

"Fuji-senpai, I know I agreed to model for you, but this is practically stalking."

"Really? I never thought it like that. Anyway, you want to see the pictures?"

"… What time is it?"

"Oh, 10:30. Why?"

"I'm busy."

"I'll take that as a yes!" Fuji grinned, "come along."

Reluctant, but no less curious, Ryoma allowed himself to be led away.

Fuji opened the door.

It was breathtaking.

The wall, parallel to the door, was plastered with countless photographs to create one huge collage of images. As he lifted his hands to touch one, he caught sight of one photo. It looked familiar. The pale skinned, dark haired boy lay across a field of pale pink, hands behind his head in a gesture of contentment. And next to it was a picture of a red haired young boy eating grapes. The green clashed beautifully with the red. Next to that was a teenage brown haired girl sketching at a table, a serene expression on her face. And then there was a girl throwing pebbles into a blue ocean, which matched her hair perfectly. Then there was himself. Lying on his messy sheets, asleep, with Karupin curled up on his stomach. There were a few more empty spaces left, but the five pictures were framed by a border of black paper. The note on the corner spelled: Peace.

Ryoma had felt a lot of things in his time in Japan, but peace was not one of them. How Fuji had managed to capture that expression on his face was a mystery Ryoma did not want to solve. Nonetheless, Ryoma could not bring himself to be angry at Fuji for sneaking around, if that was what he was creating...

Clearing his throat, Ryoma managed to say, "that's very nice, Fuji-senpai."

Fuji was eyeing his collection affectionately, "yes it is, isn't it?". He hadn't bothered to fake a smile this time, because the one already on his face, was real.

"So, you like photography, Fuji-senpai?"

"Yep!"

"And tennis as well?"

"Yes," Fuji replied. "Is it that surprising?" He added as Ryoma raised his eyebrows in mild astonishment.

"No," Ryoma replied uncertainly, "I guess it's fine that you like taking pictures, it's just that..."

"That what?"

"I thought you liked tennis..."

* * *

_**That boy has some serious issues.**_

Fuji was still pondering on what Ryoma had meant. Was there something wrong with his own preferences?

Plugging his camera into the computer, he chuckled at the funny expressions that Ryoma could allow his face to make. The pouts, the grimaces, the frowns, the smiles, the smirks; all perfectly captured by his lens. He transferred the photographs to the "Echizen Ryoma" folder, feeling quite smug at the rare smiles that he had managed to capture.

* * *

Ryoma dialled the number helplessly. What was he to do anyway? He hadn't spoken to _Him_ for more than a week now, something that usually resulted in a few broken dishes and screamed insults at the doctors, on Ryoga's part.

The line connected as Echizen Rinko picked up the phone.

"Hi Okaa-san."

"Hello Ryoma. How's Japan? Are you doing fine in school?"

"Not bad. How's Ryoga?"

"He's out of his coma, but still a bit tired. Says he misses you."

Ryoma's heart soared. Maybe...?

"Can I talk to him?"

"Er... Hold on." Rinko seemed to be arguing with someone.

"Fine, but just five minutes, okay?"

_Five minutes, better than nothing I guess._

"Hey." Ryoga's voice sounded tired, weary.

"Hey, how are you doing?"

"Fine, it's boring without you."

"You should know."

"You're so annoying," Ryoga's voice was strengthening, "just disappearing like that. Why didn't you tell me? Or say goodbye?"

Ryoma forced a laugh, "Sorry Ryo, things were a bit rushed." He could almost picture the pout his childish older brother was donning at the moment.

"Yeah yeah. So listen, Dad told me you went to Seigaku."

"Mmmhhhff."

"How was their tennis team?" Ryoma could sense the excitement in his voice.

"Not bad, not as good as St John's though."

"You'll be surprised. Dad came from that school."

"Whatever. Are the doctor's treating you well?"

"They know better than to treat me badly," he was smirking, Ryoma could tell.

"After what you did last time? I think not."

Ryoga laughed, and that laugh sent waves of relief through Ryoma.

"Anyway, my little chibisuke, Jesse is here. Wanna talk?"

"Jesse?" Ryoma yelped, "what's she doing there?"

"Mom thought I seemed lonely," Ryoga chuckled, "hold on a sec, I'll get her on the line."

"No WAIT!"

"_Hello hello hello. How's the mini one doing?"_

"_Shut up Jesse. And get away from Ryoga."_

"_Still angry about _that_?"_

"_Yes. Very much so."_

"_Ahh, but you gotta admit it, you look so much like him, and I was half drunk at that time. Besides, that was so long ago, let it slide Ryoma..."_

He could hear laughter at the other end. He growled.

_"I still don't approve."_

_"Sadly, you don't have a say."_

_"Don't I?"_

"Nope." Came the confirmation from Ryoga.

"_Damn you all. Idiots." _Ryoma mumbled.

_"Love you too!"_

_"__Oh and I heard Ryoga had a surgery?" _Ryoma brought his voice down to almost a whisper.

There was a pause, _"Er yes, they had to remove his spleen. It's ok now though. Nothing too serious."_

"_Is he sulking and not taking his medicines now?."_

"_Duh, but I get to force feed him so that's definitely a plus."_

"_Put him back on the line now please."_

"_Fine fine..."_

"Hello! Back again."

"Blah, take your medicine idiot."

"Don't wanna."

"Take it."

"You can't force me now." Ryoga said in a sing-song voice.

_Geez, even worse than Eiji_.

"So, I heard you're playing tennis? You on the regular team yet?"

"I didn't join."

"But you played," Ryoga teased, "Don't tell me they were so good, they trashed you?"

"One game. That's all. Don't talk nonsense. How about you? Are you playing?"

"Hmmm, Jesse's taking me out on to the courts Sunday I think. Right Jes?" Ryoma heard a muffled noise from the other end, "Yes."

"Well hope you feel better soon!"

"Yeah. How's the place?"

"What? Japan? It's fine, seeing as it is spring and all."

"The cherries must be blooming now eh?"

"Actually, I haven't seen any yet. I think there are some at my school though..."

"Send me a pic! Oh shoot, mom is coming, probably going to make me sleep again. Oh well, talk to you again sometime!"

"Bye—" Ryoga hung up.

Sighing slightly, Ryoma plopped onto the bed, a smile was creeping up his lips. So Ryoga was fine. And he had Jesse there too. He would be fine. He was just over-thinking things.

Gathering the papers into little stacks characterized by subject, he gave up on the essay. He would do it tomorrow. He buried himself under the covers. It was dark, and he soon drifted off into sleep.

* * *

Ryoma woke up with a start.

He had just had a strange dream, consisting of hospital beds, cameras, bright flashes of blue lights, people kissing him, and cell-phones ringing off the hook.

To say that he was confused would have been an understatement. He rubbed his eyes and turned to the clock. Nine forty-five. Momentarily panicking, Ryoma sprinted to the toilet to change to his uniform. And then he remembered. _Oh yeah, it's a Saturday_. He unbuttoned his shirt and hung it back on its rack.

He had nothing planned that day. Tousling his already messy hair between his fingers, Ryoma lay back on the newly vacated bed, and fell asleep.

He was jerked unceremoniously from dreamland by a loud crashing noise from below. Grunting in annoyance, he rolled out of bed to check the damage. Someone was going to be in deep trouble.

"Ahhh! I broke it!"

"Careful! We don't want to wake Fuji."

"He should already be awake nya!"

"According to my data, there is a 100 percent chance that he's awake."

"Bit sure of yourself this time huh? Inui-senpai?"

"No," Inui pointed, "There he is."

"Saa... what a pleasant surprise."

There were a few yells followed by the thudding of socked feet on wooden floorboards. Well, at any rate, it seemed like Fuji had done away with the intruders.

Or not.

"Echizen-kun!"

"Ochibi! Let us hide here nya!"

"Echizen-kun, you can't let us die!"

"Fshuuuu."

Ryoma was mad, he wasn't homicidal. But he was obliged to keep the door shut. Show them what they were in for if they came between THE Echizen and his precious sleep.

"WAHHHHHHHHH!" Eiji had started wailing.

Ryoma could hear the soft footsteps of Fuji slowly advancing. Deciding that it was punishment enough to be scared half dead, Ryoma opened the door and was greeted by an tumble of human limbs and bodies. Tezuka was, as usual, nonchalant as ever and he was striking a conversation with the deadly Fuji.

"Saa... how did you get in?"

"It was him." The team pointed at Eiji.

"NOOOOOOOO! It was their idea! Their idea!"

"Fuji, maybe we should..." Oishi started as Eiji started howling.

Ryoma cleared his throat to assert his existence.

"Oh morning Ryoma! Great day isn't it."

Was he crazy? Ryoma eyed his landlord with increasing uneasiness.

"OCHIBI! Come, let's play!" Eiji bounced into the (nearly) immaculate room and began his mission to mess everything up.

Seeing Ryoma about to burst, Tezuka stepped in, "Eiji, maybe we should take this outside."

Reluctantly, Eiji threw down the covers he was using as a tent and joined the rest of his teammates.

"Thanks," Ryoma said murderously, "thank you all." He slammed the door.

"Looks like someone got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning..."

Ryoma fought the urge to throw something at the _Tensai_. Honestly, who came up with such an unbefitting nickname?

_Well, his tennis was good_. Ryoma grudgingly admitted.

Feeling very much awake, Ryoma decided that going to sleep would not be an option, since it was already ten thirty. He gathered up the covers and folded them into a reasonably neat pile, before heading down to the kitchen. He sincerely hoped that the regulars weren't practicing tennis indoors.

He was in luck, apparently. The regulars seemed to have left already. Well, it was good for him, he could search for food in peace. Putting two slices of bread in the toaster, Ryoma heated the milk in the microwave before rummaging through the fridge for something interesting. Finding none, he returned to his to-be-breakfast, and wondered how one could possibly burn toast in such a short amount of time. He took his mug out of the microwave, and set his breakfast on the table. Examining his food, he wondered if he should have taken those cooking lessons his mother had suggested.

Two pieces of carbonized bread and one cup of milk was hardly filling, but Ryoma could find nothing else to consume, unless he was going to eat raw instant noodles, something he would have liked to refrain from doing.

As he returned to his room with some milk for Karupin, he heard a snicker from behind. He spun around, and realised that Fuji was staring at him from the bottom of the stairs. He felt his face growing hot. Fuji would definitely have known about his horrendous cooking skills by now. If his presence itself didn't prove it, the smirk on his face definitely did.

"What's so funny," Ryoma said rudely, knowing full well what the joke was but not finding it remotely amusing.

"Nothing, I just thought a person who likes food would be able to cook as well."

"Well, you thought wrong," Ryoma retorted, and turned back up the stairs.

"Saa... I wonder what your classmates would say..." Fuji said, playfully spinning his camera on its strap."

Ryoma stopped his ascent up the stairs, "Are you _threatening_ me?"

"Threatening? No no, quite the contrary. I was merely voicing an opinion."

"Blackmail is illegal."

"Not really," Fuji replied carelessly, "not if it works."

For the hundredth time, Ryoma was left to ponder on Fuji's sanity levels, something that usually dropped below minus forty.

"Uhh..." Ryoma started stupidly.

"Well then, where are you going with that plate? I could sue you for attempted robbery you know."

"I am taking it to my room, how is that robbery?"

"It's out of the kitchen."

"So?"

"It's robbery."

"And yet I can't sue you for blackmail."

"Nope, Fuji replied cheerfully.

"It's for Karupin."

"That little kitty?"

Ryoma was feeling more than a little ticked off by now.

"You do not, by any circumstances, refer to my cat as a 'a little kitty' do you hear me?" Ryoma growled.

"Okay!"

Ryoma felt a sudden urge to fling the plate at Fuji.

"Meow!" Karupin wanted his share of the commotion.

"Karupin! You get back in the room!" Ryoma rushed up the stairs and herded a yawning Karupin back into the room. Ignoring the ever smiling Fuji at the foot of the stairs, Ryoma slammed the door, as hard as he could without spilling the milk, behind him.

He could have sworn he heard a chuckle.

* * *

(A/N This section dedicated to a very scheming Karupin. MuahahaHa)

"KARUPIN!" Ryoma was angry. He held his arms akimbo as he stared at the white puddle on the floor, "Get here right NOW!"

Being the intelligent one that he was, Karupin remained wisely under the bed.

Swearing loudly, Ryoma bend down on the floor and attempted to evict Karupin from his seld proclaimed sanctuary.

"I'm coming to get you!" Ryoma said teasingly, crawling under the bed as well. Seeing that his personal space had been invaded, Karupin hopped onto Ryoma's bed.

"You...!" Ryoma tried to stand, forgetting that he had a 4cm thick plank of wood above his head, and emerged with a hand rubbing his bruised forehead.

_**How cute.**_

Karupin, apparently deciding that the danger was over, had very unwisely fallen asleep. Unluckily for him, an extremely pissed Ryoma was looming over him. He pounced.

The cat gave a large shriek, and leapt up, scratching everything within reach, Ryoma's face being one, Ryoma's arm being another.

"OW!" the slender cat had slipped from his arms. As Ryoma turned to chase him, he knocked into something solid.

There were the feet, then the pants, then the shirt, then the smiling face of Fuji Syuusuke looking down at him.

_Aww shoot._

"Well well well, doesn't someone look cute!" Fuji said in a teasing voice. The boy reminded him of Yuuta the day he decided to give him a haircut. (It didn't end very well)

Ryoma growled, "Get the hell out!"

"Don't want to." Fuji sang.

"I'll report you for invasion of privacy."

"Animal abuse."

"GET OUT!"

"Okay okay..." Fuji replied, picking up a trembling cat from his feet. He scratched it. It purred.

Ryoma stared. He folded his arms, "you sure? That guy's an idiot."

"So you're a cat talker too huh? Are you really that lonely?"

Ryoma snatched his cat from the brunette's arms, slamming the door again.

_**So you were...**_

O0o0o0o0o0o0

HI! Sorry if this chapter seemed confusing. I deviated A LOT from the original plan (ehehe) But here it is! Done! (yay!) we had 4 days holiday due to national day and i decided to make GOOD use of it.

AND GUESS WHAT GUESS WHAT?

We got a new computer! Omigosh! It is so cool. It's a laptop from dell, and it's all shiny and obsidian (that's what the description said). I can't bear to touch it. I'm afraid it'll scratch.

So that means I can spend longer periods of time surfing the net! Unfortunately, this laptop is to be put in the study, which means I can't write when my sisters are home. (they don't know I write shhhhh!). But they aren't home most of the time anyway. One is preparing for University apps... she's up to her nose in paperwork... the rest... well, they all have some commitment or other...

Well, hope you enjoyed this chapter!

Love, MC


	10. Chapter 10

Harlo! Sorry for the delay, but i had a lot of homework (darn) not to mention the extra tuition lessons my mother got me for history and math. And on top of it, my training has been temporarily terminated due to my less than perfect grades for the 2 subjects (GP 2.6) OMIGOSH... I managed to pull my math up (so it's so-so right now). I feel so guilty now! But I did 2 chapters last week, so it's fine? ...right...? ARRGH i make up lame excuses. But i hope this will make up for it haha. (unlikely) just joking, please enjoy!

* * *

Fuji listed out the things that he had found out from his new curio.

He spoke perfect English

He loved to eat

He would do almost anything for free food (or so it seemed)

Probably because he couldn't cook

He loved his cat

He loved to sleep

He talked to inanimate objects and animals

He liked his pictures

He got lost easily

He didn't like to owe things

He played good tennis

He enjoyed playing good tennis

But didn't want to play good tennis

He had horrible memory

But he was reasonably smart

He was good at intimidation (though, probably not as good as Fuji himself)

He didn't seem to like Fuji

And then again, he didn't seem to like people in general

He had strange ways of thinking

There was something funny about him

He got freakishly violent when provoked

Fuji frowned at the last two points. Well, points 1, 4, 5, and 6 could be used to his advantage, points 2 and 3 already were, the last five points were his to figure out. Well, he could always read Ryoma's records on Monday. Checking off boxes on his Echizen Ryoma to-do list, he smiled. It seemed like a wonderful year ahead.

* * *

Ryoma, meanwhile, was sitting at his desk he still had two more paragraphs of his essay to write. Gripping his pen tightly, he swore. He had run out of things to go on about, with what those stupid characters and idioms clogging up his brain. He stared blankly through the window at the sunny late morning sky. A lizard scuttled across the pane. It stopped, and jerked its head violently, securing an unfortunate fly between what passed for lips on a lizard. He groaned. This was getting nowhere.

Deciding to skip about fifty words, hoping his teacher wouldn't notice, Ryoma went straight into the conclusion. He could always rewrite it later. He scribbled the last few words and stapled the sheets together. Who cared if they were in the wrong order? He paused and sighed, detaching the papers and arranging it neatly. Looks like his nerdy self was surfacing.

After sliding all the papers into his file, Ryoma sat back on his desk, a blank writing pad in front of him. He felt insanely bored, and picked up a pair of scissors, cutting along the lines that ran across the sheet and shredded the paper into 7 millimetre wide strips. Well, not like he had anything better to do. Cris-crossing the strips absently, he found himself weaving bits of writing paper together, only to find himself with a thicker albeit smaller sheet. He twitched slightly, as if just realising what he was doing, and dropped the woven sheet into the bin under the table.

_I need a life_.

And to be frank, he really did. Everything he had been doing for the past half a decade, had been absolutely useless, as he flitted from hobby to hobby, searching for something to pass his time with on those countless hours of watching... waiting...

And he suddenly brightened. _Of course!_ This was Japan, wasn't it like a national pastime or something? He carefully extracted a small book out of his bag, and flipped it open. _Aha!_

(A/N i know it didn't originate from Japan, Ryoma though, is another matter)

It wasn't long before he found himself engrossed in the nine by nine square grid, filling numbers into the little boxes. It was complicated. It was meaningless. It was frustrating.

And he loved it. So much so, that he didn't even notice a humming tensai open the door, mind set on fulfilling the next memo on his to do list.

_**Aah, he likes Sudoku? **_Fuji made a mental note to add this to his Echizen Ryoma encyclopaedia. (A/N i know this is very inui-like behaviour...)

"Whatcha doing?" Fuji asked mischievously.

Ryoma gave a noncommittal grunt as he waved his hand carelessly.

Fuji dodged the pencil in Ryoma's hand. It wasn't a good idea for a tennis player to have a wooden stick lodged in his eye.

Ryoma's pencil returned to hovering above a certain square on the grid. He knew he should know the number, but he couldn't quite decide between a five and a nine...

"It's a five, you see, there's a nine right there."

Ryoma didn't write down the number. Instead, he jumped and dropped his book out of sheer surprise.

"What on earth..?"

Mentally registering Fuji's presence, Ryoma picked up the fallen book and closed it with a loud smack.

"I am perfectly capable of filling out a puzzle on my own, Fuji-senpai. I do not wish for you, or any _tensai_ for that matter, to offer any type of assistance, for something I can figure out ALONE." Ryoma gripped the pencil like a dagger, as if pondering on whether to impale Fuji with its blunt tip.

"Now, now Ryoma-kun, calm down." Fuji motioned with his hands. He reverted back to his original motive: Question Ryoma on tennis.

"So, you play tennis quite well I see." He started.

"So, what?"

"Oh, nothing, I was just wondering if you wanted—"

"No," Ryoma replied shortly.

Fuji pouted slightly at the interruption, "I didn't even finish, how do you know—"

"What you wanted to ask? My dear Fuji-senpai, I could figure that out with my eyes closed."

"Well, technically, you only need your ears—" He stopped, feeling Ryoma's murderous aura cloaking him.

"Hmm, well, go away, I need to concentrate." He had picked up his book and was restarting on another square.

"I promise, I'll just sit here quietly and behave myself."

"Yeah, yeah, do whatever you want..." Ryoma filled the little box with a '3'.

_No, that's not right._ He erased the number and re-examined the grid.

Furrowing his eyebrows, Ryoma attempted to use telepathy to figure out the right number in that particular box. It failed.

_AHA!_ He jumped a few inches off his chair and would have started doing a little victory dance, if not for the fact that Fuji was eyeing him with a look that sent shivers down his spine.

Sitting back down, a little sheepishly, Ryoma filled in the box with a flourish.

"So... tennis..."

"Yes, what about it?"

"Well, when did you start?"

"Not sure."

"How old were you then?"

"I told you, I'm not sure."

Fuji decided to use another approach.

"You can use the twist serve, impressive for a first year."

"Impressive for any year, actually," the words were out before Ryoma could stop them.

"Hmm.."

"Well, can you do all the counters?"

"You know about those things? Yes, I do."

"ALL of them?" his voice was sceptical, which wasn't surprising.

"Why don't you come watch practice and see for yourself?"

Ryoma mumbled something that sounded vaguely like "don't wanna"

"Want me to demonstrate in here?" Fuji asked cheekily.

Ryoma's eyes flitted to the new lamp on the table, to the glass panes of the windows, the clay apple sitting on the shelf and the framed pictures on the walls. He turned back to Fuji, "No."

_Huh? Where did he go?_

Fuji was examining the large wooden shelf by the door. Cherry, he noted. He had almost forgotten that he owned it.

"Saa... you have a lot of interesting books don't you Ryoma-kun?"

"They're textbooks."

"Oh really? Let me see... Romeo and Juliet... my my... Romance of the three kingdoms... interesting... Journey to the West... The tale of Two cities... The Count—"

"Shut UP!"

"Okay okay... How many languages _Do_ you know, my dear Ryoma kun?"

"Would you just keep quiet for a sec? I'm trying to do something."

"Just answer the question."

"What?"

"How many languages—"

"THREE! Now would you just—"

"I know, I know. Shut up, got it."

Ryoma groaned and continued on the puzzle. It was almost done. He just had a few more...

"Which three languages?"

He gave up. That idiot certainly knew how to annoy someone.

"There are books from more than three different countries now, you're lying." Fuji accused.

"Ever heard of _Translation_? If you haven't, you'd better check it out. It's like the new _Thing_."

"How girly." Fuji commented.

Ryoma looked at the potential murder weapon in his hands. Just one stab... and so much could be solved... Well, he had been taught many things in his life, none of which seemed to be pertaining to homicidal rages. This, he felt, was a serious flaw in childhood education. In a bid to control his temper, Ryoma made a hacking sound which was something like a cross between a cough and a snarl.

Fuji cleared his throat, "anyway, you should try out for the tennis team. I think you'll make the cut."

"No..." Ryoma mumbled, trying to restart on the unfinished puzzle.

"Why not?" Fuji pressed on.

"Because! Stop disturbing me."

"I will if you try out."

Ryoma's brain was whirring, trying to find a loophole in this argument...

"And make it onto the team," Fuji added quickly.

Ryoma immediately lost the smirk that was playing on his lips, and frowned.

"I just have to try out."

"No," Fuji corrected, "You have to try out and MAKE IT."

"Okaaayyyy..."

"Onto the regular team."

Ryoma's face fell comically again.

"No." He said firmly.

Fuji opened his eyes, blue lasers burning holes into Ryoma's forehead.

"You will try out," Fuji said cheerfully, but there was a dangerous air all the same.

"I won't."

"You will."

"I won't"

"You will."

"Not."

"Hmmm, fine, as you wish then. Perhaps one of these days, we can all go to school, and you'll find those pictures plastered—"

"You wouldn't," Ryoma said dramatically.

"Hum dee dum," Fuji said, vague as ever.

"Are you threatening me?" Ryoma was paling.

"No no, not threatening, merely stating a fact,"

Ryoma twirled the pencil in his hands, fingering the long wooden rod. Should he pierce him in the head? It would guarantee instant death, but it might be hard to accomplish. The Tensai did have an extremely thick scull after all. Or maybe the heart? People in movies always aimed at the heart to kill. And then again, Ryoma wasn't sure that the tensai even _had_ a heart. That might not be such a good idea. Maybe one of those major arteries? He could die slowly and PAINFULLY of blood loss...

"Fuji-senpai," he decided to try something new, different. Reasoning.

"You'll try? Great! I thought you'd need more persuasion."

"Fuji-Senpai!" he raised his voice.

"... I'll go call Tezuka, he can go appeal to get around the first year rule..."

"Fuji-senpai!"

"...I'm sure all the regulars will welcome you as a part of the tea—"

"FUJI-SENPAI!"

"Yes?" Fuji said, genially.

Ryoma wanted to bang his head on the hard wooden table... To think that this person was a third year...

"I don't want—"

A loud 'Ding' sound reverberated around the room.

"Oh look! It's time for lunch! Come along!"

_For food... for food._.. Ryoma clenched his fists and gritted his teeth and did almost everything possible to control the absolute fury that was bubbling within him.

One day, just one of these days, the volcano within him might just erupt. And hopefully, he cleared his throat, something _Good_ would happen. Maybe.

* * *

Ryoma picked up his bowl. The dish consisted of a salad, comprising of lettuce, and tomato. Bowl. Lettuce. Tomato.

Lettuce and tomato. Salad.

Ryoma wanted to die.

Lettuce and tomato.

_Lettuce? Tomato?_

"Aah, I served you something healthy! Until you gain confidence that you can make it onto the team. Good food makes a good heart you know!"

Maybe tensai wasn't such a bad nickame after all. He just wished he didn't have to find out why.

Lettuce and tomato.

This had got to be hell.

Ryoma stabbed the cherry tomato viciously with a steel fork, earning a squirt of sour, acidic juice that landed on his face, on the bridge of his nose between his eyes.

Death was a welcome option.

He took a bite out of the speared vegetable. Or fruit. The paradox of the tomato wasn't one that intrigued him. The tomato seeds were sour, and Ryoma scrunched up his face in distaste.

Honestly? Lettuce and tomato? ONLY?

Ryoma made a show of his absolute and utter hatred of these two vegetables, something that Fuji did not seem to notice as he munched on his rice balls, blissfully unaware of the torture his tenant was going through at the moment.

Or maybe he just didn't care.

Ryoma believed in the latter.

He frowned. _For Ryoga? No. For food? No. For dad? Mom? No. For me? ... not in the slightest. Then for who?_ Why did he hold himself back like this? He had no reason for it any longer. Ryoga had started playing again. He was probably playing right then. Was it a habit? A sick routine? To deprive himself of the one thing... He longed for most. The thought frightened him.

Or maybe it was the fear? Nonsense, Echizen Ryoma wound not be afraid of anything, least of all...

Ryoga's eyes as they followed him on the courts the week before his diagnosis, was chilling. Ryoma bit down into a lettuce leaf. Cheek muscles subconsciously moving up and down, slowly mashing the revolting vegetation into a pulp. Bite. Chew. Swallow. He might as well have been eating needles then, he wouldn't have noticed.

_Am I afraid?_

_No I'm not._

_Yes you are. _

_You are. _

_You are. _

_You are. You coward._

_NO I"M NOT!_

Ryoma was standing. The chair was toppled on its back, and a ceramic bowl lay in fragments on the tiled floor. Blue eyes were wide open in shock. Pale fingers were tearing at green locks. The room was swirling with taunting golden eyes. Leering mouths that stretched open into cackles. Eyes that were on his own face. Lips that were set on his own mouth.

_Get rid of this monster_.

* * *

(A/N sorry, that section was a bit emo... and unfortunately, the next one will be too... :0)

Fuji was disoriented. One moment the boy was calmly, or as calm as he would have expected, eating the salad that Fuji had placed in front of him. And then the boy was upright, flinging the bowl he had praised the day earlier onto the ground. It didn't make sense.

But it wasn't supposed to. This was Echizen Ryoma. The mystery. The enigma. _**The monster?**_

The boy had bent down on the ground. It was like the last time, it was just a few days ago, less than a week. Why so soon? It wasn't right. This wasn't fair. He didn't mean it. It wasn't his fa—

Fuji pulled a raging Ryoma away from the broken china, as the boy attempted to grab one sharp piece. Securing his shoulders around his arms, Fuji pulled the boy away from all obstacles around him. The boy kicked and attempted to break free from this grasp. Shrill cries were escaping his throat.

"Ryoma! Arrgh." Fuji winced in pain as a particularly sharp kick caught him in the shin. It was going to bruise.

The boy seemed to be howling something along the lines of 'I'm not!' as he fought with some invisible force around him. It may have been Fuji. There was no way of confirming.

It had been a joke. Heck, it had been a tactic. To get the boy onto the team. He had talent. How was he to know that it would set him off like that? He shouldn't have been so insensitive. He should have sensed that the boy didn't want this. Had he been too forceful?

Now was not the time. Racking his brain for the medical first aid that had been drilled into his mind as a second year, he tried to remember what to do in such situations. It wasn't easy. He hadn't had any practice.

_**Ease person to the ground**_. Fuji pushed a jerking Ryoma onto the floor. _**Roll**_ _**him to the left side? Was that what they said?**_

_**Remove all objects in the way**_. Well, he couldn't very well remove the furniture. He brushed the broken china away with his sleeve.

_**Check that the airway is free of blockage.**_ There was no food in his mouth. That was good.

_**What else? What else?**_ Fuji mentally cursed himself for not paying proper attention in the course. There had been being distractions...

"Ryoma! Ryoma-kun!" Fuji called out. The boy continued screaming on the ground, forcing Fuji into a crouching position to prevent him from running loose. One arm under his chin, Fuji remained in that position for what felt like hours, until the small freshman finally stopped thrashing.

Hesitantly removing his arms from Ryoma, Fuji stood up, uncertain of what to do next. He should call his parents. But where were they? Definitely not in Tokyo. Call the doctor? Yes, that was a good idea. Ryoma seemed in a daze, staring around him as if wondering how he got there. There were no visible serious external injuries. Fuji was panting, sweating, and wringing his hands. Very un-Fuji-like behaviour. He bent down and picked up a blinking Ryoma and brought him up the stairs, mumbling strings of words his own chaotic brain could not comprehend. As he left the boy under the covers of his bed, he got out his phone and started dialling. He would not evade it this time.

* * *

Eh... heh, is it okay? Does it make up for the 2 weeks (*cry*) i'm so sorry! I was just so busy this past few weeks and this story just didn't pop up in my mind at all... ahh! I hope you enjoy! As usual, if there's any problem please tell me!

Love,

MC


	11. Chapter 11

Hola! Me is back! I have written a new story! (yay) but it's not posted up (yet) i will wait till i finish this one. Or maybe until i finish this chapter, i dunno. It's skip beat. anyway, i guess i'm gonna start on this chapter now, to prevent procrastination and eventual panic later in the week eheh...

Oh yay! The doctor sounds cool! I'll have to get him a psychiatrist, it is quite a problem after all, but maybe after a couple of weeks, i dunno.

Well, as usual, Enjoy! (please)

MC

* * *

377— he stopped and cleared the number. It was not a clinic he was looking for. 325— he stopped again. Groaning in desperation, he flipped through his contacts to find someone, anyone who was suitable. He didn't know what the problem was. He didn't even know if the boy had a problem. Maybe he was just plain angry? Maybe he— Fuji had run out of excuses. Running his fingers through his sweaty brown tangles, he let out a long breath and tried to think of a number. _**Maybe Izumi?**_ What if he couldn't help? After all he was General Practitioner after all, surely he would not know what was wrong with the boy?

No point wondering about it, he was the only person Fuji knew anyway.

"Izumi-san."

"Yes? Who is this?"

"It's Syuusuke, er, could you come by, right now?"

"Hold on a second," There was a short pause and mild shuffling of papers from the other end, "Give me thirty minutes, I'll be there. Anything the problem?"

"I wouldn't say problem..." Fuji mumbled, eyes on the sleeping boy wrapped in sheets, "But you'd better come anyway."

"Right... Relax Syuusuke," How the doctor knew exactly how he himself was feeling was completely beyond him, but it was reassuring all the same. Fuji led his feet wander across the rooms. Picking one book from Ryoma's extensive library, he started flipping through the pages. _**Relax.**_

The Da Vinci code. The boy seemed well read. He had heard of the book, and its many controversies, but had never actually gotten down to reading it yet. Might as well start now. It was probably censored... not like he cared. This was Fuji Syuusuke after all.

_**So they DO publish in Japanese, I'll have to find it somewhere. **_And other books by the author as well. Maybe Ryoma had them.

The doorbell rang. Fuji closed the book, making a mental note on what page he was on.

"Izumi-san! You're here! I'll bring you upstairs."

* * *

(A/N i know this is a weird place for a line break, but i couldn't find anywhere else...)

"He seems fine," Doctor Izumi concluded after observing the boy.

"Yes he is now, but he wasn't."

"How did he behave? You still haven't told me."

"Saa... it's hard to explain."

"Try then," Izumi was getting a tad impatient. He couldn't make omelettes without eggs.

"Well, he was alright one moment, and then the next he went a little... a little..." he broke off, struggling to find the words to describe the indescribable experience.

"Irritated? Delirious? Psychotic?"

"Well... if you put it like that, psychotic would be the best word for it..." He mumbled.

"Did you say anything? Do anything to provoke him?" Izumi pressed.

Fuji shifted uncomfortably, he cleared his throat, "I don't think it was that."

"Was what?" Izumi raised his eyebrows.

"We-ll, he loves food..."

"And?" He narrowed his eyes, "don't tell me you..."

"NO NO! I didn't starve him! I just brought him a salad, that's all."

"Ri-ght, and that caused him to go 'psychotic'"

"Well, I didn't do anything else after that, really!"

"Fine, fine, well, I'm not too sure about what's wrong yet, but I suggest you get him checked, by a PROFESSIONAL psychologist, especially since it has happened more than once, Ahem ahem." He cleared his throat pointedly, and Fuji had to marvel at his deductive skills again.

"So you know?"

"I'm not dumb, despite what you may think, I am actually quite capable."

"I never—"

"Shush shush," he held up a hand to stop Fuji, "don't need to say it."

Fuji raised his eyebrows and said nothing more. He smiled wanly.

"Well, call me on Friday, I'll take those," he pointed at the stitches, "off. Until then, please don't make him play any more tennis."

He packed up and left the house, leaving an (almost) gaping Fuji standing in the room staring after his retreating back.

And they said that FUJI was creepy.

* * *

His head hurt. What was happening again? He must have slept too late last night.

Groaning groggily (A/N say that three times fast), he sat up, and immediately noticed a head of brown hair crouching down on the floor.

"Fuji-senpai. What?"

"Book's good!" he said, still engrossed in the thick paperback in his hands.

"What— how many times have I told you not to touch my things?"

"Hmm, twelve, I think."

"And?"

"And what?"

Ryoma dropped back on the bed again. It was much less confusing to be asleep. But it was hot. He kicked off the blankets, and was glad to hear a muffled 'oomf' as the sheets hit their target. Stifling a laugh, Ryoma turned back onto his side and feigned unconsciousness.

"You—" Fuji got up, blankets under one arm, book in other. Both were perfect, just what he needed. He could wrap Ryoma in the blanket and rap him countless times on the head with the thick paperback, which suddenly seemed a lot less innocent. To Ryoma, that is.

Ryoma felt that it was a wise decision to get off the bed. He sat down on an empty cardboard box next to the bookshelf, which was a bit stupid, and it sank down and brought his bottom to the ground. Hard.

"OWW!" He yelled, sitting on the now flattened box, a self satisfied Fuji sniggering at his crumpled form. He rubbed his bruised bottom gingerly.

"Sadistic idiot." He muttered under his breath. Unfortunately for him, Fuji heard this loud and clear.

"Well, do you want me to prove it?" His eyes glinted dangerously.

"Er... I think I'll pass." He rolled his eyes.

"Well, okay then," he turned towards the door and raised the book to his ear, "I'll be taking this for now." Without another word, the door was closed behind him.

Ryoma was opening and closing his mouth wordlessly, unable to understand why he had let the sadistic idiot genius do something like that again. _Well, _he placed an open palm on his stomach_, I have better things to do now. _He needed to have lunch soon. It was almost 2.

* * *

He waited until it was completely silent outside. He wasn't going to ask Fuji for lunch. He probably had done something weird again. Like back home. Must have been a concussion. Maybe he fell down the stairs? No matter. Lunch was at hand. Opening the fridge, he was glad to see a some rice and soup in boxes in the bottom shelf, from dinner two days ago, he noted. Microwaving was something that he was pretty good at, and he managed to 'cook' up a decent meal. Well, it satisfied him anyway. He brought the dishes to the sink and soaked them in soapy water. He would wash them later. He was feeling lazy. As he scraped the rubbish into the bin, he found a familiar looking shard of ceramic. He peeled past the layers of onion skins and food wrappers. Another piece. There was more. He held two fragments together and joined them together to form a bowl-like shape. _That bowl can't have been broken, right?_

He was uncertain. Fuji seemed to like this bowl enough, why would he be so careless as to break it? He picked up all the pieces that he could find and brought them to his room. The dishes could wait. He had a bowl to take care of.

It was like solving a puzzle without any instructions or references, and it was a long tedious task. Absolutely meaningless, but oh so fun. Just like Sudoku. He had a tube of super-glue in one hand. It had better be strong enough for a bowl. But he knew, despite all his efforts, that the bowl could never be used again. At least for anything important. Like food.

There were a few missing chips, but he managed to get the thing together, and he was feeling quite pleased with himself. Until, of course, someone barged in and stole his glory.

"Hi! I'm done. Where do I put it?" He held the orange book in one hand, the other holding up his short brown hair into a would-be ponytail, "Ah, right there, Okay!" he headed for the bookshelf without Ryoma ever getting a word in.

He would have left without further ado, except that he saw what Ryoma was doing.

"What are you doing?" The hand around his hair was relaxed and the ponytail disintegrated into a layered bob once more.

"Fixing this thing?" Ryoma looked up, checking to see if Fuji was referring to the same thing.

"Stop it, it's dangerous! What if you cut yourself, huh?"

Whoever knew Fuji was such a worrywart?

"I'm fine Fuji-senpai, it's perfectly safe, look it isn't even that sharp!"

"Don't give me that, you throw that in the trash this instant." He said sharply. (A/N no pun intended)

"What are you? My mother?"

Fuji tensed a moment before regaining his usual smile, "No, but do you want me to be?" he asked cheekily.

"Er, No?"

"What's with the question mark?"

"Well, you can cook for one, and you look kind of like one for another, anyway, I already see you more than I ever—" He froze, seemed to recall exactly what he was saying, and stood up abruptly, the newly fixed bowl in his lap crashed to the ground once more.

He cleared his throat, and said, a little louder than planned, "So, I guess you can leave the book right there, I'll put it back later."

Fuji's smile slipped ever so slightly at this sudden change of topic but said nothing.

"Okay, I'll be back soon! Don't you dare touch that!" he pointed at the bowl fragments on the ground and left with a little flip of his brown hair.

_Lucky_.

* * *

Ryoma paced the length of the room, he felt so empty. He had nothing to do. Nothing at all that he wanted. He picked at his bangs. They were getting too long. He had never thought of bringing any elastic bands. It had been overgrown since he left America, but now it was getting plain out of control. And he wasted shampoo as well.

Fuji had cleared the broken porcelain from the ground, and god knows what he had done to it. He had probably thrown it away again. Seemed like the kind of thing he would do. And it was such a beautiful work of art too. What a shame.

He picked up a pair of scissors and bent over the sink. He couldn't cut the back, but he'd still had better cut the front. He carefully positioned the scissors above his brow and closed it, ever so slowly, just to be sure...

BANG.

Ryoma felt his arm jerk. A flash of silver. Ryoma frowned in disapproval and turned back to the mirror. There was a long portion missing from the left side of his fringe.

"Ryoma! Ryoma-kun, where are you?"

Fuji wanted to show the little freshman something interesting, but he almost died of laughter at the sight of the boy, still leaned over the sink, with an extremely ticked off look on his face. And the fact that half of his fringe was missing did nothing to help either.

"Fuji-senpai, either you stop laughing now, or you die." He snarled viciously.

"I think I'll die either way." He was doubled over, hands on his knees to keep his balance. When he finally managed to control himself, one look at the incredulous look in Ryoma's face was enough to set him off again.

Ryoma, on the other hand, was getting increasingly irritated, and if that person didn't shut up soon, someone would die tonight. Or at least, critically injured. He had a pair of scissors in his hand and didn't care what he did with them.

Snipping at the air, he drew in a long breath, that hopefully, would calm his nerves. Fuji had straightened himself and was busy observing Ryoma's hair. Ryoma probably could pull it off as a new fashion trend, if he'd just let him...

"Ryoma-kun, lend me the scissors, will you?"

"WHAT? Do I look mentally disturbed to you?"

"Just give them to me." He opened his eyes to the max and lowered his voice to a dangerous whisper. Ryoma shuddered.

"Fine," he mumbled, "Idiot."

"Saa... did you say something?"

"Nope, nothing at all."

"Good, now close your eyes."

"What are you going to do?"

"Hm, nothing bad, I assure you."

"That's not reassuring in the least, Fuji-san."

"Then don't bother, I'll just do it with your eyes open."

Before Ryoma could react, Fuji had brought the scissors down to his face and was snipping away furiously. He saw olive locks _hacked _away by those indiscriminate scissors of his and nearly screamed.

"Well, then, that's done, turn around now." Ryoma was still in a state of shock. He normally wouldn't have cared what he looked like, but this was FUJI he was talking about, and however much he neglected his appearances, he definitely did not want to show up in school bald.

He felt his head lighten, and not just because of the hair that was being cut off. A wet comb was run through his hair and he felt a hand press the dampened hair down.

"Okay! Done! Take a look at yourself now!"

He was spun a hundred and eighty degrees to face the mirror. He clamped his eyes shut. He was going to faint if he saw himself, he just knew it.

"Open your eyes now Ryoma." Ryoma felt another shiver up his spine. He peeled his eyes open, readying himself for the horror that awaited him.

And it was horrible. Fuji had finished the job of cutting off his bangs and had pressed it backwards, exposing the whole of his forehead. To be precise, his entire forehead had been exposed. And what was it he found in his hair? A bright, yellow, clashing, butterfly clip that was securing his fringe up.

"Hmm, now all you need is a...Fuji bunched the rest of his hair together and managed to get it to stay as a ponytail. Ryoma blanched. He looked like a GIRL for god's sake. Was Fuji rubbing off on him? He had better get away.

He shook his hair out into its normal dishevelled state. His fringe of course, was already too short to have anything done to help.

"Hmm, not bad but I think I cut it a little too short, I should have left a bit more on the right side. Now you look lop sided Ryoma-kun."

"YOU USED ME AS A MODEL?"

"Yes, is something the problem?"

"YES SOMETHING IS THE PROBLEM!"

"But I thought you agreed to be my model?" Fuji had this infuriatingly confused look on his face. Just wait. He would strip it off...

"FOR PHOTOS, YES! NOT THIS!"

"OH! So you want me to take photographs? Just say so!" he took out his camera.

"NOOOOOOOOO!"

"Wow, just a few days and you have already developed a signature pose!" Fuji was playing with him. He was. He would not lose control. He would not give him the satisfaction of...

"YOU GET OUT RIGHT NOW! On second thought, GET BACK HERE SO I CAN SKIN YOU ALIVE!" The string of colourful language did nothing to quell his anger.

_**That boy sure knows how to insult someone. **_Fuji chuckled. This was priceless. He hadn't even taken off the lens cover yet. He was pushed out the door, camera in hand. Good thing he had the foresight to leave the bowl in his room.

* * *

Ryoma crossed his legs on the bed and his arms across his chest. He was going to stay in this knotted position until he calmed down. He was positively fuming. He could feel his skin melting off.

And he still had homework to do. He had wasted half of his day already, and it was all that stupid genius's fault. Fuji's fault. That idiot couldn't leave him two seconds in peace.

There was a knock on the door.

And there you have it, Fuji was back to torment him. Well, he was not going to budge from this knotted position—

"Ryoma-kun, I've got something interesting to show you!"

Knotted position.

"Ryoma-chan! Open the door!" Fuji smirked. He had no reason for doing this, and he knew. He had about ten sets of keys to every door in the house. But it was fun. He wondered how long this boy could last.

Knotted position.

"Ryo-chan! Let me in please!" Fuji had begun whining.

Ryoma could feel himself being slowly degraded. He clenched his fists so tightly it was a wonder he didn't get any cramps. His fingernails were digging into the palm of his hand.

"Aww, Ryo-Ryo, don't be such a—"

To hell with knotted position. Ryoma grabbed the nearest object, which, fortunately, happened to be a pillow, and flung it at the door. It hid with a tiny thud. Ryoma was completely unsatisfied. He stomped to the door and thrust it open.

Apparently not very long. A pillow was brought to his face, with a full intent of smothering him.

"DON'T YOU HAVE ANYTHING BETTER TO DO THAN—"

He stopped as his eyes found the ceramic bowl in Fuji's hands.

_Interesting, huh?_

He cleared his throat, "So you fixed it, huh?"

"Yep,"

"In ten minutes?" His voice was disbelieving.

"Yep," he was smiling brightly and chuckling and talking at the same time, a feat only Fuji could accomplish.

The name Tensai suddenly seemed more appropriate as Ryoma dropped the pillow and accepted the bowl.

"Potpourri anyone?"

Ryoma couldn't help but smile.

Knotted position had long been forgotten.

* * *

YAY! I have posted the story already, and i managed to type out this chapter in one night!

I just wanted to say: Steer clear of hairdressers. The hairdressers are creepy! They gave me inspiration for that little section. So, i have long hair, and when i went to the shop they obviously have to take down your ponytail, so i took it down, and she took one look at my hair and said that i had a naturally concave wave, and she asked me if i wanted my hair concave. Being the ignorant idiot that i was, i agreed! AND NOW I HAVE SHORT HAIR! I can't believe it. Concave! Why did i even agree? It sounded like math, and math can only mean trouble!

GRRRRH, i am so mad. I am never going to set foot in a barber shop ever again.

Even though it was cheap. I'll stick to mom.

Well, hope you enjoyed!

Love,

MC


	12. Chapter 12

OMG! I am ambidextrous! Okay, not really, but I can write (fairly) neatly with both hands, and eat with both hands (using utensils, of course) and use chopsticks with both hands! Albeit (a lot) more slowly with the left… My sister says that I'm right handed, but right brained, does that even make sense? How is that even possible? But I can write with both hands now, and that, in my book, is a fairly large accomplishment. (I am easily satisfied)

Well, on to less irrelevant things and back to the story. I deviated from the original plan. I had not prepared for the oh so popular bowl to make another guest appearance, but hey, love the little things in life!

And on to even LESS irrelevant things, I hereby declare the following chapter open. I think I dedicate too many words to utter rubbish, but hey, (love the little things in life)

And thank you all who so kindly reviewed! Your reviews all made me laugh, and really puts my *cough* horrendous *cough* haircut into perspective. It made me feel better, and not wear a hat to school, not that it was allowed anyway. But it had better grow back soon, or else. Hmm, anyone feeling violent?

ARRGH I got distracted again!

Enjoy the chapter!

P.S. English, is underlined italics, I think something went wonky when I tried it last time, but hopefully it will turn out okay when I post this up eh

* * *

The weekend passed in a flash of rushed assignments, loud noises and disturbing giggles coming from the tensai's room. Ryoma did NOT want to know what he got on that camera of his.

Before long, school started again, and Ryoma found himself in the woeful position of a certain kind of hell called 'Gym class'.

Thankfully, he was excused, because of 'Medical Reasons'. As to what he did during that period could be described in one word: nothing. Or, in nine words: sitting and stoning and trying to ignore flirting girls. Why could they not have gym class separately from those giggling demons? They happened to be doing track that day, and whenever the gun was fired to signify the beginning of the run, they would either complain about how boring this was, ignore it and continue talking, or pretended to be injured.

Not that the boys were doing much better. Most of them were gathered in little packs talking about disturbing subjects too alarming to be named. (A/N the boys at my camp really did this, please don't accuse me of being sexist). Ryoma sighed, was there even a way to get though the day still remotely normal? No wonder Fuji turned out the way he did.

He watched two giggling girls prance across the track in their illegally short shorts, swaying their hips as they did so. Turning his eyes away from this obscenity, he watched as the other levels set out to their own gym modules. Rock climbing, swimming, gymnastics, basketball and even badminton. Tennis minus ground plus feathers. He smirked. He remembered his first time with the wretched sport, watching in horror as the shuttle spun in messy routes through the air. He never touched a badminton racquet ever again. His father had asked if he had learnt anything from that experience. Nothing. Nothing at all. Except never to touch a ball with feathers attached.

Ryoga had laughed, while bouncing a shuttle effortlessly with his racquet, flicking his wrists lazily. Ryoma smiled at the memory. Ryoga had played spectacularly, and yet he had refused to even step into a court before he had re-mastered tennis. He sighed and reverted his attention back to the lesson, immediately regretting his decision as a couple of students tripped over each other and fell, limbs tangling as they did so. He smacked his palm to his forehead, feeling his IQ being severely depleted by the second.

* * *

The torture of Gym lasted another good half hour, before they were dismissed. The students set off to change into their uniforms, girls complaining about how icky it was not to be able to shower after gym class, boys continuing their discussion on disturbing subjects. Ryoma tried his best to ignore the two groups, heading off, alone, to class. Setting his head on his arms, he closed his eyes and prepared to catch up on sleep.

"Echizen-kun!"

"Echizen-kun!"

"Echizen!"

"Ryoma!"

Ryoma groaned and turned his head, the annoying voice chanting his name stuck in his head. Who dared rouse him from his slumber?

"Class is starting, I just thought you might want to—"

_Meh, nothing important_. He lay his head back on the table and promptly fell asleep.

It was the second voice that brought him back to reality, "YOU! The one in the third row. GET UP!"

English class. But he knew better than to damage his record.

"_Why were you asleep_?"

The question was asked, and even Ryoma was impressed by the only slightly accented English. Well, he could do just as well.

"_I'm sorry, I only came last week and I am still suffering from Jet-lag_."

He was sure his English had been flawless, and impressive for someone his age. The teacher however, was unfazed.

"_Well, if you do need to rest, please keep it out of my class. I will not tolerate this kind of behavior again. Is that understood_?

Mildly surprised at this reply, Ryoma raised one arched eyebrow, "Yes."

"_This is an English class_."

"_Yes._" He was starting to get annoyed

"_Now, since you have so kindly volunteered, how about you read the next three pages_?"

He wished eternal suffering upon the miserable teacher.

Idiot.

"_Not long ago, there were millions and millions of passenger pigeons in North America. These pigeons flew in large flocks. Sometimes the flock is so large that they blocked out the sun. They were called passenger pigeons because they travelled from place to place looking for food.__"_

Really? This passage was barely fifth grade level.

"_Passenger pigeons lived in oak and beech forests. In the 1850s, Man began to cut down forests to make way for building of farms, houses and railway tracks. Man used the wood for building and also for burning.__"_

He highly doubted that whatever he was saying was even understood by the numerous blank faces around the room.

He finished the passage grudgingly, before seating himself on the chair and trying to glare at the teacher without seeming rude. Big failure.

"_Echizen, you're being extremely rude_."

More passages were read, and Ryoma swore he had seen harder passages in FIRST grade textbooks.

"_Teacher… I… can… go toilet_?"

The poor girl was trying to string the words together. Ryoma had to stifle a snort. He knew it wasn't very nice, but the sentence itself could be seen as a joke without the strong Japanese intonation already.

"It's '_May I go to the bathroom_?' Koshiba-chan. Repeat."

"_May… I… go to… the… bathroom?"_

The teacher sighed and waved her hand, "Yes, yes, go now and be quick."

_Oh? Where did the 'this is an English class' go?_

He resisted the urge to scowl. Supporting his head with his palm, he wondered if the teacher was in any way related to Fuji. They seemed alike enough.

"Echizen!" came a bark, "_Sit up straight_!"

Yep, definitely related.

* * *

Well, at least the other teachers let him sleep in peace. Either that or they didn't notice with the book Ryoma had propped up as a secondary precaution. Feeling very much alive after the little nap, Ryoma headed down for lunch. He wondered what Fuji had made.

He knew he would have had a much better lunch experience if not for the bright neon ORANGE colour of the box. Just how many boxes did he own? Oh what the heck, food was food.

Unless he was being gawked at by numerous drooling fangirls. And boys, for that matter.

He stood up suddenly and picked up the precious bright neon ORANGE box and briskwalked to the gardens, where he knew he could eat in peace. Whether it was allowed, was as usual, another matter.

Spotting a shaded area beneath a vaguely familiar tree, he shifted into a comfortable position before devouring his meal, which seemed to consist of chicken cutlets, rice, and something that didn't quite register in his mind as he stuffed it into his mouth. Why he was eating so fast was beyond him. There was no rush after all. Lunch did not end for another thirty minutes.

With that kind of speed, it wasn't surprising that Ryoma soon found himself staring at the bright neon ORANGE colour of the bottom of the box.

And then there was the voice, which scared the living daylights out of him.

"Saa… quick as ever aren't you Ryoma-kun?"

Shooting up into a standing position, Ryoma held his arms out protectively, swiveling his head around to check for that brown haired blue eyed…

"IDIOT!"

This brown haired blue eyed idiot in question had leapt out of the tree and landed on the leaf litter with almost inhuman precision and grace, directly in front of Ryoma, who, of course, did not like it one bit.

"So Ochibi is Fujiko's wonderboy nya?"

"Why wonderboy Eiji?"

"Because you look at him and wonder nya!" (A/N I think I overdid it on the Nyas. Oh heck, it's cute :)

"Saa… how very amusing."

He was being purposely ignored, he knew it. He cleared his throat, to get his presence known.

"Ah, yes, Ryoma. How was lunch?"

"Orange."

"Yes, I love that colour, don't you?"

Ryoma felt that it was best to keep his mouth shut.

"OCHIBI! Are you coming for practice today? We all want to see you play again nya!"

"Err…"

Fuji cut in, "But Eiji, aren't we doing conditioning today? I'm sure it won't be fun."

"Ohh right! Well then, maybe next time ochibi!"

Huh? Did that sadist of a tensai just _help_ him? He shook his head as he watched the two head back for the building. That Fuji sure was confusing. Well, he had better things to worry about, starting from math.

Math brought out the worst in people, he soon came to know. The teacher was not present that day, and the entire class was left with a stack of worksheets and instructions to distribute them in class that day, complete it, and hand it up by the end of lesson. Needless to say, all three were violated.

Of the few people who had actually bothered to collect the worksheet, half of them had given up halfway. The other half were either going half mad at trying the questions, or copying answers from the one person who actually knew how to do the questions. Ryoma was glad he was not that person, though he was sure he knew how to do all, or at least most of the problems.

Hmm, and he had always thought that Japan's education system was better than America's. It was probably because he was in the honours class. Yep, that was probably it. (A/N I went through two years of American schooling, so you can't blame me for prejudice ehe )

Ryoma had gotten enough sleep for the day. Having nothing better to do, and curious as to why the students were so crazy about, Ryoma grabbed a sheet and pulled out a pen.

Okay, so it was a teeny bit harder than expected, but he managed to finish it. With about two out of six questions left blank.

_This is unacceptable. I must have been slipping lately_. He could not allow this. He had to pull up his socks. Tennis was distracting him again. Fuji was distracting him. He had to talk to him about this. He folded his arms, unconvinced that he could not tackle those two questions. They weren't that hard. He just had to think. Think harder.

He growled. His math was supposed to be impeccable, and yet he didn't seem to be able to sole this question. What was the topic again? He consulted the front page. _Yes, trigonometric ratios in circles_. But how on earth was he supposed to find that stupid AO if OE wasn't given? This was impossible. No, he had to think harder, where had he seen this sort of question before?

He flipped through his catalogue of a brain, trying to find a situation, any situation, where he had come across this type of problem. He hadn't had a challenge like this for a long LONG while. Time to come out of hibernation eh?

Heh, this was nice.

* * *

School ended with the long musical bell. Unfortunately, the entire class was held up by the Geography teacher who just had to cram in extra stuff about the sinkhole in Guatemala, and about how it was NOT a tectonic feature. _Like who cares?_ Apparently some random person did, resulting in excited explanations from the teacher, who just could not get enough of talking and talking.

At last, they were dismissed. He dumped his papers into the bag and tried to ignore the idle and loud chatter in the hallways.

Anyway, he still had to get those two questions solved. Going over the question in his head again, he frowned. He should know this. He just didn't. Yet. Scrunching his face in a very un-Echizen-like manner, focusing his mind on the diagram already embossed in his memory. He was so focused, in fact, that he didn't notice that he had walked into something hard.

"Sorry," he muttered, eyes narrowed and eyebrows furrowed. He continued on his way, muttering numbers and formulas under his breath.

"Hey brat!"

Momentarily jerked out of his stupor, Ryoma frowned. Did that guy just call him brat?

"Yes?" He replied coldly. He would have ignored him. He should have ignored him. He just didn't.

"How dare you walk into me?"

Ryoma surveyed the tall boy's uniform. Judging by its similarity to his own, it was probably Seigaku's high school division. Okay, so this guy was at least three years older than him. And about thirty centimeters taller. Oh well, he could handle him just fine. Just fine, considering that the boy was holding a tennis racquet. Wrongly, at that.

"I apologized, didn't I?" Did he? He wasn't completely sure.

"You think that will get off so easily?"

"Yes, very much so." Ryoma smirked, he had so wanted to let out some of his anger today. Math was actually quite frustrating.

The boy turned around to one of his sidekicks, whispered something into his ear, and started laughing hysterically.

"What?" Ryoma asked dangerously.

"No-nothing," the boy replied, still hiccupping with laughter.

Ryoma was starting to get a little annoyed. Just a little. He crossed his arms across his chest and inclined his head to the left, giving the boy a calculating look, with as much contempt as he could muster. Gathering up all the cockiness he had, he said disdainfully, eyeing the boy as if he was a stubborn speck of dirt on his shoe.

"Hey kid, you're holding it wrong."

He liked the reaction the boys showed. Ah, how nostalgic. He hadn't felt like this in what, five years? He watched as the boy's face suddenly exhibited very interesting colour displays, turning from a blotchy red to deep magenta.

"What did you just call me?"

Ignoring the question, Ryoma repeated himself, "You're holding it wrong."

Following Ryoma's gaze, the boy looked from his racquet, to Ryoma and back again. He started pacing slowly, menacing, towards Ryoma, who stood unflinchingly in the same spot, arms still folded neatly.

"And you would know because?" His tone was soft and low, and he was so close Ryoma could feel the boy's breath on his face.

"Well," he continued, ignoring him again, "that grip is the western grip, not the eastern grip, which you seem to be aiming for."

The boy raised one eyebrow.

"The western grip is only used by beginners," _why the heck am I giving this idiot a theory lecture_, "because it is easier to hold. But, I'm sure senpai is not a beginner, no?"

He cocked his head again, to the right, widening his eyes innocently. The boy growled. Ryoma's smirk became, if possible, even loftier, clearly set on pissing the boy off.

"Then why don't you show us?" the boy's sidekick called from about ten meters away, pitching a yellow tennis ball at Ryoma. Without even turning around, Ryoma raised one arm and caught the ball, before bringing it up in front of him and examining it closely, rotating his wrist in experimentation.

"Nope, too slow…" he mumbled, apparently to himself, but loud enough for all to hear. He raised his voice and said more confidently, "Not bad on accuracy, but your speed is still," He bounced the ball on the pavement, "Mada mada."

Without a second glance, Ryoma turned on his heel and headed off down the road. The boy, however seemed to have other ideas. Ryoma felt the ball being thrown into the air and heard the whack of the tennis racquet. He didn't turn around as usual, and held out a hand to stop the ball. A serve with a racquet, was obviously much, Much more powerful than a throw. Ryoma estimated it to be around fifty meters per second.

And it _hurt _like _hell_. Well, not like he was going to give them the satisfaction. He turned his head slowly, the smirk still adorning his face.

"Try harder." He could hear the insults the boys were throwing at him, but he didn't care. He had to make sure his wrist wasn't sprained or anything. Even broken. How stupid could he get? Using his hand to stop a direct serve, by that huge boy no less? He shook his head at his own foolishness.

_Oh shit_. Another whack of the tennis racquet. Ryoma stiffened. If he had to use his hand again he swore it was going to break off. No, he just had to be a wimp and dodge it.

Thwack. The expected hit did not come. Surprised, Ryoma spun around, to find a very angry looking Fuji standing in the middle of the pavement. Or, as angry as one could look with that supposedly serene smile on his face. Ryoma raised one eyebrow. Trust Fuji to look so frightening without trying to at all. He seemed famous, and the boy and his sidekicks whispered among themselves, before turning to leave.

"Phew! Lucky!" He smiled cheerfully and skipped towards Ryoma, who was still in that half turned position of his.

"Ryoma-kun, you okay?"

Ryoma's eyes darted towards his left wrist before returning to his senpai's face, "Of course, why wouldn't I be?" He turned sharply and walked off. Fuji, it seemed, wasn't convinced.

"Oh really?" He reached out a hand to grab Ryoma's wrist. The owner of this wrist gave a gasp of pain before crouching down into a more comfortable position.

"I told you so!" his voice was teasing, and Ryoma didn't like it one bit.

* * *

Okay… I wouldn't consider it a cliffhanger.

Well, it's over! This is about all I have planned for this story. Any ideas? Haha. Well, I suppose things are looking up!

I had to end it here because my mom was threatening to cut my allowance if I didn't go to sleep by eleven thirty, so I will go now1

Okay, I just edited it, and I hope I improved on the vocabulary I just seem to always repeat over and over again, which may make it quite annoying for readers.

So I tried to use more big words (thanks to the numerous thesauruses sitting on my shelf.

Well, hope you enjoyed it!

MC

P.S. I will not be posting any more chapters until around 17th October, because my End of Year assessments end then, and I cannot afford to have my grades slip below seventy-five percent. So, I guess I'll have to stop for a while, but 17th October, that's a promise :) I will post


	13. Chapter 13

I know I said I wouldn't post.

But I guess, like many others, I have self control issues. Anyway, I guess it is fine to reward myself, since I have basically copied out my entire geography textbook onto cue cards already, (which doesn't make sense, because it isn't allowed at the exams anyway)

So, here is chapter thirteen. But I don't think I can have any more. Exams start on the 30th of September heh… they end on the sixteenth (:

It's good not working on a schedule once in a while (but not always)

Well, here it is, I wrote it for stress relief … hehe sorry, Imma bit tired right now. I'll just go to bed after uploading.

Enjoy!

* * *

"You really are stupid, ne Ryoma-kun?" He had a perfectly serene expression on his face.

"I've heard better insults Fuji-senpai, and don't you have training?"

"It wasn't an insult. An insult is an expression or statement which is considered degrading and offensive. It was a fact."

"Well then," Ryoma retorted hotly, "I can say you are a heartless idiot who has nothing better to do than to drag his juniors, painfully, back home, under the pretence of something you refer to as 'help'."

"That was insulting, Ryoma-kun."

Ryoma would have liked to smack his forehead with his palm, he really would, but his uninjured hand was being pulled out of its socket by Fuji, and his injured one… well, it didn't take a genius to figure that out.

Choosing to ignore that paradoxical comment, he took in deep calming breaths, counting to ten, backwards.

"Well then," he said again, "you haven't answered my question, Fuji-senpai."

"What question?"

"Don't you have training today?"

"Yep!"

"Huh, and Tezuka-senpai won't get mad."

"Of course he will."

"Then?" Ryoma asked impatiently.

"Oh he won't dish out more than seventy laps. He's got better things to do than to count the circles we run."

"Oh." Well that definitely explained a lot. Note the sarcasm.

"You don't believe me." It wasn't a question.

"Er, forgive me for saying so but, no."

"Well, you got me! I was lying."

"Oh." How informative.

"Hmm… Inui has kept watch. Sixty five is his record."

"Oh, that is, er, nice to know."

"I know, right? So don't be late for training, or skip without reason. Running laps is very boring, especially after twenty five."

"Nah, I won't skip trai—" _Shoot,_ he slipped again.

"Oopsies! I forgot you weren't on the team, sorry!" _**To hell with Izumi. **_This was Ryoma he was talking about.

Fighting a rapidly twitching left eye, he blinked, trying to ignore the gnawing feeling in his stomach.

"Oh. Yeah… Right…"

The rest of the journey was completed in silence, save for the intermittent cough or sigh.

They were at the doorstep of 53 Sakura Drive.

"Oh darn, I forgot my keys."

_WHAT? WHY? _"Oh what a coincidence. So did I."

"Oh." Just how many times had he said that word already? Well, at least it wasn't a less innocent four letter one.

"Okay then! Let's head for school!"

He just couldn't help himself. It just slipped out. (A/N sorry, I just can't swear properly.)

Gasp.

"Oh Ryoma! Where did you learn to speak like that? That's not a very nice thing to say."

"I know, that's the point." He could feel his patience slowly being tugged out of his grasp, and if he had to walk back to school, one… more… time…

Fuji tut tutted, and made his way back down the walkway, before stopping on the cobbled path.

"Ah! I know!" He whipped something out of his pocket and bent down in front of the lock, attacking it almost viciously. But, this was Fuji, so everything managed to look graceful.

Unless, of course, you were a very pissed Ryoma who was aware of how suspicious they looked and was on the lookout for policemen. Oh shoot, there was one right now! And he was pretty sure it wasn't one of those friendly neighborhood policemen Enid Blyton would have been happy to write about.

Mr. Plod, wasn't it?

"YOU there! What are you doing?" the blue clad officer rushed towards the door.

"Um, er…" He was at a loss for words. What was he supposed to say? _Oh I'm sorry sir! I left my keys at school and I found this hairpin and I just had this sudden brainwave_.

"Well?" he tapped a foot. He would have made a very excellent teacher.

"I kind of, live here." He replied lamely, trying to sound as confident as he could, in that situation.

"Uh huh, and I'm supposed to believe that because?"

He turned, helplessly to his 'accomplice', who was, by the way, still picking the lock.

"AHA!" this 'accomplice' exclaimed, startling the life out of the boy in black, and the man in blue, who only just seemed to realize that he was there.

"Sir? Sir!" He put a hand onto Fuji's shoulder. The owner of this shoulder, however, did not appear to have heard, and was staring triumphantly at the door, which was slightly ajar, as if challenging it to do better.

That was an expression he would have expected on a kindergartener's face.

And then again, Fuji did seem to have the mental capabilities of a three year old, albeit the occasional genius streak.

"Si— Fuji-san?" Fuji had turned around.

"Ah! Suzuki-san!" He looked pleasantly surprised.

"Ahh, so it was you! Gomen, gomen, I didn't know." (A/N I try to refrain from using romaji, but it just seemed to fit…)

"That's fine, say hello to Aya-chan for me!"

"Sorry little… boy! I didn't know you lived here."

"I just told you." Ryoma muttered irritably, elbowing the door wider without allowing his bag to slip off his shoulder. Just how wide was this guy's sphere of influence?

Fuji sighed nostalgically, "Saa… He's a nice man." On his mysterious note, he turned and entered the building after Ryoma, who was still patiently (enough) holding the door open.

Ryoma's mind was buzzing. So, this person could finish a book in two hours, fix a shattered bowl in ten minutes, and now he had just broken the lock to their house and had just held a personal conversation with the village police officer.

He was definitely not human.

Oh, and he needed to get combination locks for his door. But no doubt it would be broken again.

Why did Fuji carry hairpins with him anyway? Was his family from the mafia?

* * *

"Okay, so now that we're here, what are we going to do about this?" Ryoma waved his injured wrist in the brunette's face.

"Saa… I never thought about that."

With his uninjured arm free from Fuji's grasp, he successfully managed to smack his forehead.

"Self mutilation? That's not healthy, Ryoma-kun."

"I was under the impression that it would be a lot more sinister, Fuji-senpai."

"Oh?"

"Back to this," he waved his arm again, "what am I supposed to do? Bandage? It isn't even bleeding."

"How about we soak it in cold water?"

"NO!"

"Warm water?" he suggested again.

"Are you trying to kill me?"

"It's a wrist, Ryoma, and it isn't even broken."

"How can you be so sure?" He had brought his wrist protectively to his chest.

"Well, for starters, you wouldn't be able to wave it around like that, and it would hurt a lot more, and it would be swelling…"

"You can tell me that, and yet you still don't know what to do?"

"Pretty much, yup!"

There was a pause.

"Please go back to training."

"And you?"

"Well, since you have absolutely no idea what to do, I shall be forced to go along with you, to see the school nurse."

"That is very kind of you."

The person who had coined the tensai nickname was probably also from another planet.

* * *

He had left Fuji running laps under the command of Tezuka. Fifty-five, he had heard. He must have really annoyed the captain. Good thing he wasn't on the team.

_He who can't eat the grapes will always say that the grapes are sour_. His mother used to say that to him when he lost a match.

He smirked to himself, pacing down the deserted hallways. This reminded him of some sort of horror movie scene. Stopping in front of the door with the plaque that read 'infirmary', he knocked (With the uninjured hand of course) and waited.

"Come in." Ryoma pushed open the door, the smell of disinfectant overwhelming him as the gust of cold wind rushed out.

"What's the problem?" The man in the white coat was sitting at his desk, and didn't bother to turn around as his patient entered, something that Ryoma found profoundly irritating.

"My wrist." He replied, a little annoyed at the supposed doctor's impoliteness and deciding to be just as difficult.

"Your wrist."

"Yes, my wrist." He was getting fed up. He had to find out where the neighborhood clinic was.

The doctor finally turned, revealing a relatively young man with black hair and brown eyes. He was probably twenty five to thirty five years old. He wasn't the same person he saw last week. And he was tall, much to Ryoma's displeasure.

"Your wrist, please?" Ryoma walked to the man in the chair, getting more frustrated by this man by the minute. He was the one with the swiveling chair, he could just roll over.

The 'doctor' examined the sore wrist with a slight frown, prodding it and turning it over gently. Ryoma winced as a long gloved finger poked a ligament.

He seemed to have a slight aha! moment with this show of pain, and immediately searched through the drawers for something or other. _Sadist_.

Pulling out a roll of bandages, he wrapped the entire wrist firmly before securing the loose end. He patted the bandages.

"There, that should be fine. Just a small strain. Use it as much as possible without causing pain. It should be okay by the end of this week." The doctor looked up, his eyes widening behind rectangular glasses.

"You…" he started.

"I what?" Ryoma was rotating his wrist experimentally.

"How's your foot?"

"Hm?" he pulled up the leg of his pants, revealing a stitched cut just above the shoe, "it's fine… wait…"

"Healed faster than I thought…" the doctor mumbled, bending down on the swiveling chair to examine the wound. He straightened, "you can come see me on Wednesday."

"Okay…?" Ryoma replied skeptically, still wondering how the hell this doctor had known that he had an injury on his foot in the first place.

The doctor was eying him with a strange look, "my my… you are really accident prone aren't you? Echizen Ryoma?"

So, the doctor was really creeping him out. He backed away towards the door.

How on earth did this guy know his name? He knew the school issued name-tags but he hadn't gotten his yet… Could he be…?

"Don't worry," the doctor had a very shrewd smirk on his face, and as if reading his mind, said, "I'm not stalking you."

"Thanks, uh..."

"Nor am I Psychic."

"Okay, erm…"

"Izumi. Izumi Takaya."

"Izumi-sensei." He darted out of the infirmary in as dignified a manner as possible.

The doctor tapped his nose with his now-ungloved finger.

"So this was your little mystery, Syuusuke… That's quite a departure from tradition there, isn't it?"

* * *

Ryoma was trying to get as far away as possible from the doctor. His reassurance was not in the least reassuring.

He intended to run home straight away, but _Something_ got in the way. His woeful lack of house keys. He pivoted on the spot outside the school gates and stepped back into the compound he had just left. And yet again, he found himself searching for Fuji.

He wasn't hard to find, really, sitting at the benches sweating slightly from the laps. _How does he even manage to finish them so soon?_

"Fuji-senpai. Fuji senpai!"

The tennis genius looked up, surprised, though he managed to keep this relatively well hidden.

"Yes? What is it?"

"I don't have keys…"

Apparently they were drawing a lot of attention. What was wrong with those people?

"Ah, yes…" he fished around his bag sitting next to him, "Here!"

Ryoma stared at the black hairpin clasped in Fuji's hand. This definitely was a sick joke.

"I can't pick locks."

Fuji looked really surprised at this comment, and he didn't bother to hide it at all.

"Oh I see… well, my keys are in my locker."

"And?"

"And what?" That guy was a really good actor; either that or he was mentally dysfunctional.

"Fuji-senpai, I can't pick combination locks either."

If he had looked surprised before, he now looked completely bewildered. Just how was that Fuji raised?

"Oh I see… okay, my combination is 13-24-08."

"Ah, wait, hold on." Ryoma scribbled the said combination onto a scrap of writing paper and darted off to the lockers.

What was the locker number again? 1000? Or was it 998? Or 1003? It had to be around that section, he had always seen him around that area.

_Might as well check every one._

It was 1002. It was a close guess. Opening the locker, he half expected it to be empty. Fuji would do something like that. Thankfully, It wasn't. He shuffled the papers and located a shiny metal key, attached to a keychain that said in beaded letters: "Syuusuke". He had no doubts that Fuji had made it himself. There was a miniature tennis ball and racquet hanging from the bottom. As much as he tried to deny it, it was actually cute. _Cute_.

He had always had an affinity for small things. Holding the tiny racquet between his thumb and forefinger, he knocked the little yellow ball, watching it as it swayed, pendulum like, on the jump ring securing it to the beads. A shadow of a smile flashed on his face, and he straightened himself from the squat before the cheese yellow locker, shutting it.

Or he would have, except that something caught his eye. A school notebook. Normal, brown recycled paper cover. He wouldn't have noticed it if not for the fact that it sported a fairly large "ECHIZEN RYOMA" on the spine.

_Now what do we have here_? He was itching to find out, though a bit wary. It could be a bomb, for all he knew.

_Well_, he reasoned, _it does have my name on it, so technically, I'm not doing anything wrong_.

Allowing curiosity to get the better of him, he reached out for the book and flipped to a random page in the middle. It was written in tall, smooth handwriting, like calligraphy (A/N Er, I have no idea if there is calligraphy for Japanese, but there is for Chinese, so I dunno. Kanji is just about the same anyway… I think). His expression darkened with each sentence he read, and he turned to the last page, where his profile and records had been printed in roundish, even characters.

Setting his mouth in a thin, hard line, he snapped the book shut. Fuji had better have a good explanation for this, or he would personally shove him off the school rooftop.

* * *

"Echizen-kun, may I ask why you are disturbing practice again?"

Tezuka's voice brought him back to reality. He was evidently annoyed.

"Because, Tezuka-senpai, … your little _tensai,"_ he pointed at the brunette on the court, "Has been doing something," he waved the notebook, "And absolutely refuses to leave me alone."

"Where did you get that?" Tezuka had raised his eyebrows.

"Oh, you mean you don't know? He probably has one on you too." He gave a dry chuckle.

"Where."

"His locker of course. Where else?"

"Are you sure it was his locker?"

"He gave me his combination, the door opened. Obviously it was his locker."

"Oh? He did?"

"Yes, and I need to talk to him."

"Echizen-kun, that's not Fuji's notebook."

Well that was news.

"What do you mean? It was in his locker." He insisted

"Yes, but it's not his book."

"Of course it is. Only he would do something like that."

"No it isn't, see there? On the front? It says—"

He didn't have a chance to finish, for another deep voice had interjected.

"Where did you get that?"

Ryoma turned the book around. Sure enough, on the left corner, there was a tiny string of characters that read: Inui Sadaharu.

And who in the seven heavens was this guy? He had a stalker he didn't even know? _What the heck_?

"Fuji's locker." He replied automatically

"So that's where it went. I should have guessed. There was a ninety percent chance that it had been stolen."

Oh, yeah. Right. Fuji's team mate. Calculator boy.

"So this is yours?"

"Yes." That was a stupid thing to say. Now he had Ryoma's murderous rage focused onto him.

"Er, would you like some tea?" The tall boy asked nervously as he caught sight of Ryoma's expression. He was positively seething.

"WHY THE HELL ARE YOU KEEPING TABS ON MY EATING HABITS?"

Being the data genius that he was, he decided that he would have a 98.5 percent chance of getting terminally injured if he remained in that spot.

So he did something smart and ran.

With a Spartan Ryoma tailing him of course.

"Ryoma…? Oh! looks like he found _that_… and Inui…" he followed the whiz of black and green white and blue and raised his arm to return the tennis ball, eyes still on the little blur outside the courts.

He smiled wickedly.

"40-love."

* * *

He thrust the key into the lock, feeling it jam. He pushed harder. The bells on the keyring jangled. He swore and extracted the key, only to find that he had been holding it upside-down. Well, that was useless. He turned it over and was glad to find that the lock was still intact, despite the tampering.

_First picking locks, and then stealing. He is definitely from the mafia._

He really didn't want the details. He kicked his shoes into a neat-ish position and went straight to his room. It was almost four-thirty. His bag was dropped to the floor and the boy lay back on the bed with a contented sigh. It had been a long day. He brushed lightly at the hair covering his face. He had managed to comb the hair from the back of his head to cover for his fringe, but it felt strange.

He held the keys and keyring at arm's length, staring at the miniature tennis things hanging down. Where had he gotten those charms? He could feel the fuzziness of the ball and the separate strings of the racquet. This was definitely too detailed to be considered normal.

He had a nagging suspicion that Fuji had made it, or his sister. He ran his fingers through his hair, wondering why he felt so tired. And it was only Monday.

School was becoming more of a routine than anything else, and he had just about perfected the perfect schedule: wake up, change, go to school, learn, get back home. At least St Johns had _some_ variety, here, it was more like mass production of scholars.

And of course, tennis players.

Mass production, but inevitably, there would be damaged goods.

He pulled out the now slightly crumpled math paper, still thinking_. If AO equals OA, I should be able to find CA, but that's if I know what OB is… but that's only if I know AO. To find AO I need to know DC and angle AOF, but I don't! then… then… Oh my god, I _am_ stupid. x, It's always algebra, isn't it? Stupid. stupid. stupid. _

He stared, accomplished at the paper, putting it away neatly with the rest of his worksheets.

* * *

April 13th, Tuesday, a week since he started school. He looked up the exact schedule of the school term.

Exams were in late June. Ample time to study once the teacher completed the syllabus in late may to mid-June. Summer break was in fifty seven days. He could survive this. He definitely could. Trying to locate his Japanese assignment, he was surprised to find that his slim file was getting uncomfortably thick.

The papers were piling up in his bag, and he needed a way to organize them. Binders were not necessary at the moment, but he still needed some kind of folder for each of the subjects. But he couldn't go and buy ten folders for every single subject he had. Ten files in his bag was no better than a what he had now. As he fretted over this problem, the worksheets on the table became increasingly messy.

A trip to the stationary shop was underway.

He found himself in front of the automatic glass doors, looking at the isles running along each wall and between. It was a stationery shop, but it seemed more like a shopping mall, or departmental store.

Erasers of all sorts were sitting on one shelf. Shaped like animals, food… was that a lunchbox he saw there? Battery operated erasers? Japanese people were either too smart or too lazy. Sometimes it was hard to tell the difference. Fuji was the perfect example.

The file section was painfully huge. Running along three towering rows of shelves. L shaped files, plastic files, paper files, files divided into sections, box files, ring files, fasteners, one centimeter, two centimeters, five…

That was it, he was never going to find anything suitable. He headed for the next aisle. Files with plastic covers. opaque. Organizers. Document folders. Hard files. Bendy files. This was why he hated shopping.

He looked around helplessly. This was getting nowhere. As he turned to leave, he saw something sitting on the lowest shelf. It seemed right. He bent down to examine it. Elastic went over a button to close it, and as it opened, it expanded into twenty or so tiny compartments. Perfect. This was perfect.

He hugged the file to his chest and skipped out to the cashier. Little hearts trailing after him all the way.

The file was showered with loving gazes as it was slipped it onto the conveyor belt. This was why he loved shopping.

"Ryoma-kun?"

Jaw dropping, Ryoma stared at the figure before him. Brown hair covered by a bright yellow bandana, brown apron with the shop logo emblazoned on the center pocket. And, this was why he hated shopping again.

"Fuji-senpai? What are you doing here?"

"Working!" he smiled.

"Work?"

"Part time," he picked up the file and scanned it under the laser.

"Is it allowed? Middle schoolers?"

"Of course it's allowed."

"Oh. Why do you have to work?"

"To earn money, of course," he entered the number on the computer.

"But why do you need to? You own a house," Ryoma pointed out.

"True… true…" he held out a hand for the money, and Ryoma pressed a bill into his palm, "How's your wrist?"

"Izumi-sensei patched it up for me."

"Hm? It looks okay now."

"It's much better."

"Good."

"So, you work every Tuesday?"

"Yup."

"You didn't come last week."

"I might remind you, Ryoma-kun," he typed the value into the computer again, "that you had fainted outside my house that day. It is not within my morals to just leave you lying in the grass, you know."

_Morals? What morals? _But he kept quiet about this point.

"Oh, sorry."

"Nevermind." There was a pinging sound from the cash register and Fuji pulled out the change, pressing a button on the computer to print out the receipt.

"Would you like a carrier?"

"No thanks," He picked up the file.

"Here's your change, enjoy your day!" the phrase was said in a mechanical voice with a fixed smile. Ryoma had to marvel at his professionalism.

Pocketing the money and receipt, he made his way out of the store, feeling strangely accomplished.

* * *

Now to file his worksheets. Japanese. Japanese literature. English. Math. Chemistry. Geography. History. Well, that was it for the moment. The desk looked decidedly cleaner as the papers were filed away. Ryoma looped the elastic band over the button and grinned. It was almost seven.

He opened the kitchen door, feeling guilty. Yes, he, or rather, his parents, were paying the rent for the room/apartment, but that did not stop him for feeling selfish. He was leeching off Fuji, wasn't he? He was just prancing around, enjoying his little life, while others had to work for theirs, though Ryoma didn't understand why Fuji had to. He owned a house.

And everyone knows that if you own a house in middle school, you are rich. Evidently, this did not seem to be the case with Fuji, who cooked, cleaned, and kept old school uniforms. What kind of rich guy did that in this era, or any era for that matter?

Weird, but he had better things to worry about. He had a meeting with the school nurse, or doctor. He had reason to believe that that doctor was tracking him. The idea of being watched was disturbing. Or maybe Fuji had told him? He was the school nurse after all, was this supposed to be on medical records or something?

Maybe he should just have dinner first. He put on his shoes and grabbed his wallet. Thankfully, there was an ATM outside the shop and he managed to surreptitiously withdraw the money without looking suspicious.

Because twelve year olds were definitely not supposed to have ATM cards.

The shop was traditional looking and cozy. He slid the wooden door open, hearing his rubber soles thud on the wooden floor.

"Excuse me, can I..?"

"Sorry, we're full right now, do you mind-?" a middle aged man was saying.

"Echizen-kun?"

"What are you doing here?"

"Ochibi?"

"Echizen?"

The many different variations of his name was called out several times before he turned, without a word, out of the store. Just what he needed, annoying people annoying him.

"Hold on a second, don't you run away!" A hand grasped the back of his collar and pulled him onto a chair.

"You know them?" the middle aged man was saying.

"Not rea—"

"Yep, he played a game with Momo last week."

"And won." The guy in the bandana hissed.

"NO! it was a TIE!" Momoshiro insisted.

"Is Fujiko with you nya?"

"No."

"So boring! Nevermind, come! Eat!" a set meal was placed on the table before him.

He didn't touch it.

"Why are you here?" it sounded more callous than intended, but he needed that question answered.

"We always come here after training on Tuesdays and Thursday's nya!"

"There's no training on Tuesdays, I thought?"

"No, there is training every day, but you only apply for a few. Regulars have four training days, non-regulars have two to three. But there is morning practice every day."

"Ah. And, how much is this?" he pointed to the meal.

"You don't have to—"

"Six hundred." Tezuka's voice came from across the table. (A/N yen is so confusing, but I guess It's more fitting to use it)

That was reasonable. Ryoma picked up a pair of chopsticks and began to eat. It was nice, and it tasted familiar. He bit into an egg roll and felt it crunch between his teeth. _Ah bliss_.

Food was nice, this was even better. There was soon nothing left on his plate and Ryoma took out his wallet and took out the required amount.

"Wai—" the tall boy was silenced by his captain.

"Thank you, I will be leaving now." The sky was darkening outside and he needed to get back soon.

He stood up, only to be pulled back by the collar again.

"Nya, let's take a picture!"

Ryoma struggled, "Let, Go! Why?"

"It's Fujiko's tradition nya! We must take pictures when something interesting happens!"

So he was something interesting now. How interesting.

A reluctant muse, he was tucked between Eiji and Momoshiro as the camera counted down. Even in his absence, Fuji was still causing problems for him. That guy was a natural.

5.

4.

3.

2.

Flash. Ryoma blinked. Eiji picked up the cellphone positioned in front of the group and consulted the screen.

"Everyone's so cute nya!" He waved the screen around, passing it to the team members.

"GAH! I look constipated!" Momoshiro exclaimed.

"You always do, peachy."

"What did you say? Mamushi!"

In this din, Ryoma slipped away unnoticed.

* * *

The front door swung open before he even touched the doorknob. He jumped back before it could hit him.

"Saa… Ryoma, where were you?"

"Out for dinner." He tried to push past Fuji, but an arm blocked him and pushed him back.

"Oh, please tell me next time, so I won't have to wait for you, since you specifically asked me to provide for you, just last week wasn't it?" he smiled genially.

"Er, yes, about that."

"About what?"

"I thought about it," Fuji eyebrows were travelling fast up his forehead, "and I think I don't really feel comfortable…"

"Having me cook for you." Fuji finished flatly.

"Something like that, yes."

"Is it because you don't like my cooking?" Fuji gave a small sob. Fake, of course.

"No no! I just…"

"or is it because you don't trust me?"

"No! it's just that…"

"I know! You're afraid that I will poison you, right?"

"NO! I don't want you to use your money to pay for.."

"But it isn't my money Ryoma-kun." Fuji looked surprised, "It's yours."

"Mine?" realization dawned, "Have you been stealing—"

"Nonono, it is included in the price of the rent."

"The rent… Oh the rent. But I just…"

"Just what? Oh I knew it. You don't trust my skills enough."

"Not that! I just don't want you to waste your time cooking more for one extra person." This conversation was getting thrown off topic, and Ryoma was still standing on the doorstep.

"But it's no trouble at all!"

"don't lie, Fuji-sen—"

"really, I'm already cooking for myself, why would take any extra effort to cook for you?"

"True but…"

"Some things are actually easier to cook when there is a larger portion too!"

"Yes, but…"

"And I like to cook!"

"I know, but"

"So there's no reason why you should feel uncomfortable, unless of course, you don't like me."

And really, there was no reason at all.

"But… But…"

"Yes?"

"It just doesn't feel right."

"How so?"

"I don't know, it just does."

"Hm, then tell me, does it feel right to lock someone out on a chilly spring night when he's just wearing a T-shirt and shorts?"

"Of course not!"

"But sometimes, Ryoma, It is okay to do it."

"Like when?" he asked, not knowing and not liking where this conversation was going.

"Like now." With a final smile, the door was closed in his face. Silence.

"FUJI SYUUSUKE! OPEN UP!"

"Not by the hairs of my chinny chin chin!" Fuji taunted.

"YOU DON'T HAVE ANY. LET ME IN RIGHT NOW."

"Don't want to~" he sang.

"IT'S MY HOUSE TOO!"

"Doesn't seem like it, does it. You don't have the keys, do you?"

Sure enough, he had forgotten again.

"So what?" he hissed into the keyhole, aware of the stares pedestrians were giving him.

"Hm, well, do you understand now?"

"Understand what?"

"The concept!"

"Stop acting like a madman and let me in."

"Do you understand the concept?"

"Yess! Yes I do!"

"What is it?"

"It is right to lock people out of their homes on a chilly spring night, when they are only wearing T-shirts!"

"And shorts, but, BEEP. Incorrect."

"What? It's right to accept dinner from people you don't know?"

"BEEP, wrong again."

He banged on the door with both fists, the doctor did say to use it as much as possible after all, "I DON'T CARE! LET ME IN RIGHT NOW!"

"What's the concept?" Fuji asked, unfazed.

"I don't know okay!"

"Nice of you to admit it. I'll tell you: 'it's right to accept dinner from your _friends'_."

"Oh? And since when did that happen?"

"Just now!" the door swung open, this time really hitting Ryoma, who doubled over in pain as the doorknob came into contact with his stomach.

"You… you…"

"Yes? You okay?"

"SADISTIC BASTARD!"

"That's not nice Ryoma, my parents are legally married you know."

"So were mine!" He got up painfully and stormed up to his room, removing his shoes along the way and flinging them down the stairs. Hopefully, they would land right on his face.

* * *

Lah dee dah

What a strange note, but it's finished! This chapter! Yay! Okay, I have to stop my rebellious fingers from typing, but they JUST WON'T STOP.

And I just can't swear, and when I do, it sounds really REALLY awkward, doesn't it. I know it doesn't mean nothing, because it's just another word, but I think it's my upbringing. And besides, if my parents ever find it lying around, I'm prepared for my funeral.

Gaaah. I think I will really fail if I don't stop spending so much time on ffnet… This is just terrible

But I hope it will be nice! And like I said, I think it is good to have some fun once in a while… Writing is fun! Essays for Romeo and Juliet are just awesome!

I'm just going to go to bed now, ooh! Nearly a hundred reviews already eheh Thanks everyone! And for all the moral support!

LOVE,

MC


	14. Chapter 14

I will make this little announcement quick.

You know, a couple of chapters back, there was this haircut thing? I remember someone asked for a drawing so…

So… I tried to draw it…

It isn't a scene. It's more like a picture. It doesn't have any background, just Fuji and Ryoma in white space wrestling (if you could call it that) I think the link is on my profile, so yeah, if you want to go and see it… it is the only one in colour, so I guess it'll be easy to locate

Explanation on why this chapter even exists is below…

Enjoy!

* * *

His new file didn't fit into his bag. Something just had to go wrong every single time something good happened didn't it? Well, that was fine. He would not give fate the satisfaction of seeing him suffer, no, he would be strong and level headed…

And anyway if his bag was too heavy, he would get scoliosis. And if he carried the file with his hands, he would also build strong arm muscles. And he could bring more other things to school.

What a nice win-win-win situation.

He dropped the file onto his desk, hearing it smack, satisfactorily loud against the hard against the wooden surface.

It was ten, he should make a call.

He dialed the number again. Listening to the robotic voice to enter the pin number, followed by the hex key was not at all enjoyable.

"_Sorry, the number you have called is not available, please call back_—" he was about to hang up when he heard a chuckle from the other end.

"_Jesse…_" he growled, "_What are you doing on my dad's phone__?"_

"_Don't be so suspicious, he gave it to me for safekeeping!"_

"_Yeah, I so believe that."_

"_Believe it!"_

"_Is Ryoga there?"_

"_Yep. Say hello to Ryoma, darling!" _She cooed.

"_Put. Him. Through_."

"_No can do, he's asleep. Oh look! He's awake now_!"

"_So, put him on the line!"_

"_You didn't say the magic word!"_

"_Put him on the line, please."_He forced the word out of his clenched teeth.

"_Oops! He fell asleep again!"_

"_JESSE! IF YOU DON'T GET HIM O—"_

"_Alright, alright, no need to get cranky."_

"_Ryoga, baby, it's Ryoma!"_ she was just trying to get him mad, and he knew it.

"Heeyy, chibisuke, are you doing okay?" His voice was slightly hoarse.

"Yes, it's okay. Don't mind me, you sound horrible."

Ryoga gave a dry chuckle, and started coughing, "Nah, it's just the meds. Honestly they should at least make it taste good if it's going to make me feel like this."

"really?" Ryoma teased, "and how did it taste like?"

"Like fried frogs and horse dung."

"You've never tasted them before."

"Yes I have, just last night. I swear they're feeding us poison in secret."

"Ha ha, so is everyone okay? Your schoolwork?"

"Guess it's fine. Jesse's helping me now that you're gone."

"She's a freshman." Ryoma muttered.

"She's, like you, remember? Don't tell me you left for one week and…"

"No no, I didn't forget." He said quickly.

"You're now in… First year, middle school?"

"Yes."

"Why? You skipped a grade here, why not in Japan as well?"

"I think they said something about testing my level."

"What kind of level do you have? I'm surprised they haven't plunked you into the genius class yet."

Ryoma laughed awkwardly, "I don't think there is a genius class, and even if there is, I won't want to go."

"Why? Because you're afraid that someone will be better than you?" Ryoga was mocking him.

"No, too many strange people."

"You speak from experience?"

"Experiences I never want to experience again."

"Now this I've got to hear, what did he do?"

"Ask no questions and I'll tell no lies."

"Too bad, I'm asking." Ryoga coughed on the other end, and Ryoma could hear Jesse fussing over him. _Idiot_.

"I'm not telling."

"Name." Ryoga was serious. He gave in.

"Fuji."

"Ooh!"

"Your response is disturbing. Third year, a supposed genius."

"Genius? Who could be geniuser than you?" Ryoga was just provoking him into saying things.

"He can do Tsubame Gaeshi, happy?"

"No I'm not happy, can _you_ do Tsubame Gaeshi?"

"No, why would I?"

"Learn!"

"Why?"

"Because tennis is fun!"

"Speaking of which, did you go and play on Sunday?"

There was a pause, "Yeah, only a little though. It was raining."

"Oh too bad. Spring showers, huh?"

"Yeah, annoying. Never mind, we're going to an indoor court next time."

"Good for you."

"Yep, are you playing now?"

"Not yet."

"So they did trash you so badly you can't show your face on the court anymore."

"NO!"

"If that guy can do Tsubame Gaeshi, you're as good as dead."

"Is it really that good?"

"You will understand when you grow up, my little chibisuke."

"I'm not five years old."

"Sure you aren't." Ryoga coughed again.

"Ok, you'd better go rest now, I have to sleep too."

"Good night!"

"Good morning!"

He hung up with a sigh. Was it really that powerful? Ryoga definitely knew more than him anyway. Maybe he should try Google. Everything was on Google.

The phone cord was rolled up and Ryoma lay the phone atop the wire. It was going to be a beautiful Wednesday.

* * *

Morning. The sunlight was streaming directly into the room, bathing the entire room in a pleasant orange glow. He must have forgotten to pull down the blinds again.

Or maybe someone decided to open them for him. Either way, it was uncomfortably sunny in the room. Squinting his eyes at this sudden change in lighting, he grumbled and pulled the cord, allowing the room to fall back into its usual darkness. It was twenty minutes before his usual waking up time. Too early to prepare for school, too late to go back to sleep. What a dilemma.

He shuffled to the bedroom, he was early, might as well make good use of it. The handle of the faucet was turned to red, and Ryoma let the warm water flow out of its head. He squeezed the toothpaste tube, allowing the green and blue striped Colgate to form a little chocolate kiss shaped blob, before scrubbing it fiercely against his teeth and gums. Gargling water in his mouth, he washed the toothbrush in the plastic cup, spitting out the soapy water into the sink.

The tub was now full. He dumped his pajamas, consisting of an old T-shirt and shorts, into the sink, submerging it in water. He would wash it later.

He let his body adjust to the temperature before sinking, feet-first, into the tub. Drawing in a deep breath, Ryoma plunged into the water, holding his head beneath the surface and counting.

Bubbles were floating and bobbing past his face, as if taunting him for his lack of air. He reached out his hands and clapped them over a large one, resulting in little bubble formations and sudden shortness of breath.

Fourty-one. Forty one seconds. He had to try for a minute next time. Gasping for oxygen, he lathered himself with soap before hastily draping a towel around his shoulders. There was still school after all.

The pajamas were still sitting dolefully in the porcelain sink. He would just have to take care of that later. His school uniform was hung from the handle of the closet, drying. He ran his fingers along the sleeve. It was still slightly damp. Not that he had anything else to do. He slipped it on, feeling Goosebumps where the cold fabric had touched his skin. It would just have to dry as he wore it. Patting the uniform straight, he shrugged his shoulders before grabbing his bag. The cord securing the blinds down was untied, and sunlight was streaming into the room again.

* * *

He was right on the dot, as usual. After spending some time thinking about whether or not to take the bright green box on the table, he finally relented and had brought the box along. It was already made, no point not taking it now… right?

Whatever, Fuji would make him eat it anyway, might as well do it in a less unpleasant manner.

As he walked pass the infirmary, he remembered the spoken appointment the doctor had arranged for him. He said Wednesday, the time didn't matter. Yes, he could still see Izumi-sensei during the lunch period. As much as he would have liked for his stitches to be removed, he really didn't want Izumi-sensei to do it. He had removed the bandages and washed them, since his wrist was feeling better already. Still stinging, but better. He didn't carry unnecessary things that were potential attention magnets. Not good, especially for someone like him.

He eased his injured hand into his pocket, trying as much as possible to keep it out of the way of flailing arms and books. Thank god it was his left. He couldn't have survived if it was his right (A/N I will further explain this later).

He eased his arms out of the straps of his bag, slowly. It felt lighter than usual.

"Okay class, take out worksheet 5 that you did yesterday, no, Monday. Is that right?"

"Yes." The class chorused. The part which was actually listening, of course.

Ryoma rolled his eyes and felt in his bag for the paper. It was gone. And then it hit him.

_I transferred it to the file_.

He should get used to having an extra piece of plastic hanging off him, but for now, there was a bigger issue at hand.

Should he tell the teacher? It seemed much smarter just to sit tight and pretend to have the worksheet. Yes, that was what he was going to do. With his textbook open at his desk, he pretended to be immersed in one of its diagrams.

The minutes ticked by to an hour, and Ryoma heard the teacher slam her laptop shut.

"Okay, that's it class. Please read pages 25-32 for lesson tomorrow. We have a graded quiz next Monday. Have fun! Oh, and hand up the worksheet 5 to the Math rep. Don't forget, bring your calculators to class every day from now on!"

Groans erupted from the rest of the class. Graded quizzes. Who graded quizzes? And to a more pressing problem, what was he going to do about handing in the worksheet? He didn't bring it. He couldn't hand it in. As a tall dark haired boy stood up to collect the worksheets, he began to start worrying.

He, Ryoma, had a perfect record for homework. This one thing would tarnish his entire grade report. What if he got a zero for homework?

"Echizen-kun, do you have the worksheet?" the dark haired boy was staring down at him.

"Sorry, I didn't bring it." He certainly sounded a lot calmer than he felt.

"Put it into sensei's tray when you get it. I won't account for you here."

Tray? What tray? Lunch tray? School suddenly felt a whole lot more confusing. Graded quizzes, handing in homework, and trays? Life had never been so complicated before.

He should tell Ryoga, inform him about this absurdity called Japan school systems. Writing a letter? Maybe?

Yes, Ryoga didn't seem very well lately. He should. _Tonight._

There was a knocking of heels against the tiled floor.

"Good morning class, we are running on a very tight schedule. We have three more topics to cover, as well as essay writing skills. If you don't turn up in school with your work completed, you will only be dragging yourself, and your classmates down. Please be seated. Today we will be covering on photograph analysis…"

And the teacher went on and on and on. Who wrote essays for geography? He stared at the freshly printed sheet on his table.

_From the photograph, infer how the economic situation of Sichuan at the time of the earthquake may have affected the extent of damage. _

There was a large black and white photo on the paper, depicting the disaster area, supposedly the Sichuan region. It was divided into nine sections. This was definitely strange.

He knew he was in for a great culture shock. And this was just school.

Why could the world just be unified in trivial matters like schooling? Stupidly complicating things. Even tennis was easier to understand.

He felt himself doze off in the middle of the teacher's explanation about something or other.

"Echizen-kun, wasn't it? Come here a moment." The sound of his name caught his attention.

There was an ominous air as he followed the teacher out of the classroom. Was he in trouble already?

"Okay, it looks like you're okay for the most part, you've covered this topic before haven't you?"

"Not in as much detail though, it was last year."

"Ah, I see. Well, are you free at lunch time?"

"Not exactly, I have an appointment with the school doctor."

"Oh, okay." The teacher frowned slightly, thinking, "Okay then, how about after school? Or lunch time tomorrow? Can you make it?"

"I think I can make it after school today."

"Good. See me outside the office at three thirty. Don't forget."

"Yes, Good afternoon."

The teacher walked off, no doubt to her next class. _Wonder what she wants me for_…

* * *

Lunch time came soon after, and Ryoma headed for the infirmary. _If he does anything strange, I can run. If he does anything strange, I can run. If he…_

"Come in!"

Izumi-sensei was at his usual position in the swiveling chair, bending over some random folder. Probably someone's medical records.

"Sit down."

Ryoma looked around. The only seat available was the bench, which was covered in folders and messy papers.

"There's no space."

"On the bed silly," the doctor raised one hand and waved him towards the bed.

"Okay." He moved awkwardly towards the white sheets and sat down on the uncomfortably springy bed.

The doctor turned around, finally.

"Ah, Echizen Ryoma was it? What is it now? Don't tell me you fell down the stairs this time?"

Ryoma felt his face rearranging itself into a blank look.

"You told me to meet you here on Wednesday, no?"

"Oh yes, that. Must have completely slipped my mind. Ah, what for exactly?"

"Maybe, this?" He raised his pant leg.

"Oh that. Well, I can remove it now."

"Er, I don't think…"

"I told you to come here didn't I?"

"Yes.." he started slowly.

The doctor tilted his head, "Look, I was the one who put them on and I'll be the best one to take it off. Either you stop wasting my time or I let you live with a couple of strings stuck in your skin for the rest of your life. You choose."

"…" He had no comment for that.

"Good!" the sudden change in mood was unsettling.

He lifted Ryoma's leg so it was parallel to the floor and started examining the cut. Ryoma had to stretch his arms out behind him to retain a healthy level of balance.

"What have you been doing my dear, you didn't pay any special attention to it, did you?"

"Was I supposed to?"

"You cut your skin so bad it had to be practically quilted. Duh."

"Well," he added defensively, "I've never gotten them before."

"Then this is good experience isn't it. You're lucky it hasn't been infected."

"My immune system is perfectly functional."

"This part has no immune system. It is just about dead already. Now I'll still have to remove it. And keep it dry. Take showers, not baths."

Annoyance was flooding through him. Just who did that doctor think he was?

"And your wrist. I just had it done on Monday, how fast do you think it can heal, my dear?" he picked up the wrist and squeezed it hard.

"OW!"

"Now, let me get this straight. I am your doctor, and you are listen to me regarding your health, hear me? I personally don't care if you get mobbed by fangirls asking you how you got it, but I've got personal experience, so I'm going to let it go just this once. If you leave your health in my hands you jolly well take good care of it. I have better things to do than to help a bunch of teenagers with their stupid problems."

"I never left my health in your hands."

"Oh yes you did."

"Did not."

"Yes you did." He raised a sheet of paper, "See? Proof."

"What kind of proof is that? It's a medical certificate."

"Which I'm writing to excuse you from any sort of physical activity in the next week. No, make that two weeks, as extra punishment."

"That's illegal."

"That's doctor's orders. Honestly what _has _Syuusuke been doing?"

"What has he got to do with this?" He asked incredulously, "On second thought, don't tell me. I don't want to know."

"Wisest choice you've made all day. Now roll your pants up, I need to cut this thing off."

The doctor snipped off the knot, tugging the thread gently… gently…

The bloody string was out.

"Meh, could've done better."

"What?"

"None of your business, DON'T ROLL IT DOWN YET!" He held out a hand.

"What!"

"Are you an idiot? You want to walk around like this all day?"

Ryoma bent down to inspect the wound. It was still slightly open.

"This might hurt a little, but bear with it for a moment…"

Without warning, an alcohol swab was pressed to the virtually open wound.

Stinging pain shot up his entire calf.

"WHAT THE HELL?"

"Told you it would hurt. Now stop screaming like a girl so I can clean it up for you. He was holding a small spray bottle."

"NO!"

"Get back here idiot. Don't _make_ me spray it in your eye."

Surprisingly, it didn't hurt. A bandage-like thing was stuck over the wound.

"It's antiseptic, little girly, take this. Now shoo. I have work to do, and unless you want to sort those out you had better get out in five… four… three…"

He didn't hear the rest of the countdown, which was cut off by a loud slam of the door.

"Stupid cocky brat." There was a clang of metal as the scalpel and tweezers were sterilized.

"Syuusuke, you do know that this is a difficult one, right?"

"Whatever. That was a bit harsh, Izumi."

"He started it." He replied, in a tone unbefitting for a person aged twenty nine.

"Well, what was that 'proof' you were going to show him, ne?"

"You curious?"

"Not really."

"Too bad then, it was really an interesting discovery."

Fuji pushed open the curtains.

"What?"

"Thought you weren't interested?"

"Now I am, is that a crime?"

"No."

"Show me then, please?" He smiled widely.

"There's nothing much. His parent's just signed the medical form, certifying the usual… blah blah blah… In case of injury or illness.. blah blah… right to receive medical treatment. You know, the standard form."

"Let me see that anyway."

"Give it back when you're done."

"His parent's must be loony."

"Why?"

"Leaving their son's health in your care? Definitely mental."

"What about yours then?"

"Well, they are, to a certain extent, no?"

"I guess so…"

"Wait, come here a sec." Fuji twirled the doctor's chair around to face him.

"Whaat? I am busy."

"Doing what? Come here."

"Can you read the signature? This one?" he pointed to a loopy words scribbled on the bottom line.

"That is messy, but what about it?"

"I think I've seen it before somewhere…"

"It's just your imagination. This guy's probably in America. Now leave, or YOU get to sort out that pile. Five… Four… three…"

The door closed. Izumi smiled. How effective…

O0o0o0o0o0o0oooooo0o0o0

His uniform was dry. About time too.

He had two minutes left for lunch. Really? One could really expect more from a school like Seigaku. Thirty minutes for lunch? Why couldn't they make it all an hour like the rest of the periods? Apparently, lunch wasn't as important as geography on this half of the world. Well, there was the reason why Japanese people were all so skinny.

He wasn't planning on giving up his precious lunch. No sir. They were allowed to eat in class weren't they? He took out the lunchbox and wolfed down the contents. Rice and fruit salad. Weird combination, but it would do fine for now. The world record book would have to be rewritten if he had entered any special contest.

"Ryoma, where were you during lunchtime? I missed you!"

"Me too!"

"And me!"

His fanclub was getting bolder by the day. He just hoped that it would mellow out soon. Very soon.

"Everyone, um, could you please take out the poster that you did last week? Yes, that one. Everyone look at Akane-chan. Echizen-kun, come with me a while."

While the rest of the class scrambled to get their posters, Ryoma followed his teacher out to the corridors, for the second time in a day.

"Echizen-kun, have you thought about what club you would want to join here in Seishun?"

"Um, no." He replied truthfully.

"Well," the teacher pulled out a sheet of paper, "Club activities is compulsory for all students, it can be a sport, or arts? Performing arts? You can do that as well. And we have a couple of clubs and societies for you to choose from, so, take your pick, but you will have to go through a selection trial. The trial will determine whether you get into the school team or not, of course, and it varies according to the criteria's for each club. We try not to have any pre-requisites, but if you do, that's good."

Ryoma nodded slowly. He hadn't given the subject much thought.

"Ah and, I think your records have something about tennis, yes, a letter from your parents, yes? If you would like to join I have the sign-up sheet right here. Are you perhaps thinking of joining tennis again? I know our school's tennis team is quite famous in this region and the country as well."

His face was shining with hope, Ryoma didn't want to let him down.

"Uh, I don't think I'll join tennis, but I can consider…"

"Right! Here are the necessary information, and here are the dates for practice each club has, I'll just give them all to you for now. Take your time, but tell me as soon as possible okay?"

"Yes."

The teacher reentered the classroom. Staring at the practice dates for the tennis team, he sighed, tucking it into the very bottom of the pile. In any case, Fuji must not know of this, or who knows what calamity would befall him this time. Then again, it was alright to consider it for a bit, right?

He pushed the door open again, watching the little groups of students working on their community involvement poster thing. He sat at his desk while his group members crowded around the table next to him. Three and a half more hours of school. Time was gradually coming to a standstill. He closed his eyes, feeling his cheek lose feeling of the cool table top his face was leaning against.

* * *

"OKAY!" The teacher's cry nearly broke his eardrums, "Are we all ready? Line up with your presentations please! There is a new student, right? Echizen Ryoma. Echizen Ryoma, can you stand up to introduce yourself, Group one, prepare what you need."

"Um…" his body was still tilted at an awkward angle from which he had just been awakened from.

"Oh, simple things, like your name, your birthday, siblings, hobbies, stuff like that."

What kind of class was this?

"Um," He stood up slowly, "I am Echizen Ryoma, my birthday is 24 December, I like to read. Yes." He nodded and sat back down.

"Good, Well Ryoma, welcome to your very first Speech and Drama class!" the overenthusiastic teacher clapped her hands, "Now group one, please present your piece." She sat delicately down on the chair, flashing an expectant look at group one, who just fidgeted and mumbled among themselves.

"Start."

The skit was… Indescribable. He couldn't describe it.

The way the students managed to look so absolutely idiotic without even trying was already hilarious on its own. Though he managed to keep his amusement relatively under wraps, the rest of the class were desperately trying not to burst suddenly into loud guffaws.

"Well, that was certainly most creative, now, group two, if you please?" she fluttered back to her seat.

The students from group two got up slowly and moved to the front of the class as if heading for their execution. _Come on, nothing can be worst can group one, can it_?

He was wrong. Very very wrong.

"Was that Romeo and Juliet? Very nice."

"No sensei, it was Macbeth."

"Oh! I see. Well, very… interesting interpretation."

Without waiting to be asked, group three hopped up and literally skipped to their stage.

"Hello." The first person said dramatically.

"We are." The second person said even more dramatically.

"Group three!" what a spectacular opening. This was going to be great. Just great.

Maybe this was where Fuji learnt how to torture people. He wouldn't be surprised.

The seven pupils retook their places at their seats, noses turned up smugly.

_Prissy._

"Now, excellent performance group three, now we shall have group four!" she sat down after her commentary, and Ryoma had to marvel at how well she kept up that composed expression on her face.

"We will now present our skit—"

"It's not a skit, it's a performace." Another group member interjected.

"It is called, the bean and the pepper."

However this was going to turn out, he was sure it wouldn't be good. Terrible. Terribly funny. In a bad way.

Even he had to struggle to stop laughing, and he was successful, unlike some of his classmates who were already rolling on the floor.

The fourth team walked back to their seats, looking insulted.

"And that's a wrap everyone! So, Echizen, since you weren't here before, you probably don't know what's going on." And really, he didn't.

"That was the final assessment for their drama course, and that grade would be ten percent of their literature grade, you see. So… since I can't grade you now, I will give you until next lesson to figure out what you want to do. Two weeks should be more than enough right?"

NO no no no no no no nononono.

"Okay." Him and his stupid mouth.

"Great! I'm sure we will all look forward to your performance. Well, we have about ten minutes left of class, you guys can just do whatever, just don't make too much noise, okay?"

The last request was disregarded as the students swarmed into their own little cliques. Ryoma, on the other hand, was still panicking over the presentation he was supposed to make.

"Hey." A tall girl leaned over his table in what she seemed to think was a seductive manner.

He didn't reply.

"So. Nakamura-sensei asked you about the clubs, huh? Well, you would love it in the Asthetics club."

"No no!" another girl kicked in, "He should join swimming! You love swimming, no?" He hated it now.

"Stop it!" someone piped up. _Thank you_, "He should join the track and field!"

"No! he should join the fashion cluster! I'll bet his fashion sense is awesome!" the girl speaking high-fived her friend standing next to her.

"You're all wrong, he should join the tennis club. Did you see his game with Momo-senpai the other day? Amazing, except that Momo-senpai would have beaten him if not for his…"

"Buzz off, he should be in Technology!"

"No, Science!"

_Someone save me from this hell._

"Soccer!"

"Rock climbing!"

How many clubs were there in the school anyway? He could not endure this any longer, any more, and he would just…

"OKAY!" everyone jumped and turned towards the teacher.

"Class is over now! Get ready for the next lesson alright? I'll see you in two weeks! Have fun!" she bounced out of the room.

"Echizen-kun, how about the audio— Hey, where did he go?" The boy's seat was empty.

"Sensei! Sensei! Ryoma chased after the Drama teacher who was just outside the classroom, pressing the clasp on her handbag.

"Oh hi! Echizen, wasn't it? Yes?"

"Er, may I go to the bathroom?"

"Sure! Go ahead."

He sprinted to the bathroom before the maniacal classmates realized what was going on.

The door was opened a crack just wide enough for him to slip though and he pushed the door shut behind him, leaning against its wooden frame.

"Oh god." He sunk down into a seated position on the tiled floor, struggling to catch his breath. The bathroom wasn't exactly the best place to breathe.

"Ryoma-kun?"

"YOU!" He stood up and spread out his arms in front of him, hitting his elbow on the door painfully.

"Yes, me. Why?"

"What are you doing here, and what did you just call me?"

"Is there something wrong?" Black eyes bore into his own.

"Er, nothing. Aren't there staff bathrooms?"

"You think I want to set foot into that dirty stinking place?"

"I would suppose so… but what are you doing here."

"This is a bathroom, what do you think I was doing here?"

"Er…"

"Smoking." The doctor finished for him, "so, what are _you _doing here?"

"None of your business."

"But it is very much my business, you are my patient, and I can't let my patient over exhaust his still healing leg, no?"

"I'm leaving." He reached out his hand to grab the doorknob.

A sharp tug nearly choked him.

"What the hell was that for?"

Izumi placed one hand on his head and spun him around.

"You would make a very good ballerina." He blew smoke into Ryoma's face.

Choking for real this time, Ryoma spluttered, "DISGUSTING! Shouldn't doctors set a better EXAMPLE?"

"I am, that's why I'm not smoking in the health room am I?"

There was a silence between them, in which Ryoma swiped the cigarette from the doctor's mouth in one clean sweep, extinguishing it by pressing it against the doctor's glasses.

"OH MY GOD! Those were damn expensive you… you little brat, wait till I get my hands on you I will surely make you die a slow, painful death." Ryoma darted out of the bathroom, towards the class.

"Sorry sensei, I was at the bathroom." Ryoma said breathlessly, noting the white whirl heading towards him at breakneck speed.

"Take your seat Echizen-kun. And take out the passage we did yesterday."

"Yes." He jumped into the room and closed the door behind him. He could still see the white-clad figure making rude hand gestures through the tiny glass window in the door. He smirked.

The teacher scribbled a few characters on the board, declaring it a game. Whoever could find another word to match up to it got a lollipop. He loved lollipops.

He raised his hand tentatively, he wasn't too confident about Japanese, "Number four, Komo?"

"That is correct." She aimed a lollipop at Ryoma, who snatched it deftly out of the air.

"Sensei, can I..?"

"Go ahead."

Smiling, Ryoma unwrapped the sweet and popped it into his mouth, folding the wrapper and tucking it neatly into his pocket. As he looked up, he noticed the twenty nine pairs of eyes staring at him. The stick of the lollipop was jutting out of his mouth. _What?_

"Er, sensei, number two, is it Ken?"

"Good!" Another lollipop was flung into the air, where it was caught this time by the red pigtailed girl who used to sit next to him.

"Number fourteen, Kori?"

"Good!"

"Ten, Tamago?"

"No, that's egg, but good guess." She tossed a lollipop at the boy who answered, something which Ryoma felt was extremely unfair.

"Number six, Shika?"

"Very good." Another lollipop. There was now a rustling of plastic as everyone unwrapped their lollipops and started sucking.

"Number fifteen, Iya."

"Correct." The girl who answered gleefully dropped her lollipop into her bag.

Ryoma watched as the rest of the lollipops were distributed to the rest of the class.

He raised his hand again, "Number three, Tsumi."

"Yes. That is correct, but you can only get one a day." Ryoma had to try his best not to look too mortified. _What?_

This went on for some time, and Ryoma felt the candy in his mouth shrinking by the second. He sighed, laying his head on the papers once more.

O0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

This was actually finished off last week, I was planning on leaving it off until the said date, but I decided against it.

So, er, I hope you will enjoy and not question me too much on how much self discipline I actually possess…

Love,

MC


	15. Chapter 15

WOW so many things have gone by already

My exams, countless stupid projects and my birthday! (BWAHAHAHA Fourteen now! Bye bye December babies, you will never catch up to me!) Cackle.

Well, my exams were absolutely horrendously terrible. I missed out one question for math (IT WAS WORTH 5 MARKS) I guess, all I can say now is, I will try to churn out as many chapters as i can before the inevitable locking of computer occurs... now that I think about it, they only ended this Monday. Hm... last one was Geography (oh how I loathe it)

Oh and by the way, I think I changed my genre, because it was straying too far away. And to everyone, can someone please help me with the summary? Because it think it needs a revamp (a huge one) Thanks alot! I cannot write summaries T_T

ENJOY! And thank you so much to everyone who read/reviewed/commented/alerted/favourite this story. I never knew how much recognition meant to me until I joined FFnet! : ) really, thanks! o.O

* * *

_Does anyone give a damn_? The placement test paper sat innocently on the table, making snide remarks about his lack of intelligence with its overcomplicated questions and tiny font size.

Ryoma clenched his fists so hard around the pencil that it almost broke. He had finished with his essay, in PEEL form, and was now back to the multiple choices.

Shading in bubbles. He just had three consecutive twos. No, that couldn't be right. But there was no other answer to the questions. Yet three consecutive twos was just wrong. No way would such a coincidence have happened. He must have made a mistake along the way. He turned the sheet over, back to the question paper.

The geography test was becoming something of psychology.

_Two. One. Two? _That wasn't right either, because the next answer was a one. Two one two one was definitely too predictable to be a plausible answer set.

He pulled at tufts of his hair, stressing out. What was it he read again? That book mother had made him read. How to manage stress.

It was not working. Raising his pencil like a sword before the paper, he held it threateningly before the elusive answer to the third question. One? Or two?

He gave up, skipping the question and proceeding to the fourth.

"Echizen-kun, is there anything wrong?"

He gave a small cough of embarrassment, "er nothing."

The teacher gave him a look, unconvinced, but returned to the papers she was marking.

He narrowed his eyes and stared, eyes threatening to bore holes into the stapled sheet. _Just put a three_.

The paper was done without further problems, until, at last, that paper was finished.

There was only one Three in column two. And there were five twos.

Something wasn't right for sure. The selections had to be evened out. It was the _way_. And no _way_ the answers would be so sporadic.

Frantically flipping at the pages, he checked question after question, to make sure that he had shaded correctly, maybe missed a three somewhere along the line?

"Echizen-kun, do you need to take a break? Water? We can continue this later."

"No thanks," he dropped his gaze back onto the paper, held together by the barest of slivers. He had torn it. Would it cost him marks?

Face slightly flushed from all the panic, he folded the corners of the question paper, hoping it wouldn't break apart again.

Epic failure. He took out the bit of metal connecting the two sheets and attempted to hand-staple the two sheets together. This only succeeded in giving him an impromptu acupuncture session.

"Time's up, please stop writing Echizen-kun."

He nearly fell out of his seat. Had one hour passed so soon? He stared blankly at the disconnected exam paper before him before snatching it up suddenly and pointing it in the direction of the teacher.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," he smiled weakly. He was sure he had messed up on the last question.

"Well, I can mark it right now if you want," the teacher said slowly.

"That would be, very nice." He nodded.

"Okay. You know, Echizen-kun, you have by far the worst case of exam stress I have ever seen."

"I see," was that a compliment?

"You will do much better if you would relax, it doesn't matter anyway, it's isn't graded. We just want to know your level, so you will be comfortable."

"Level?"

"Well," the teacher had uncapped her red pen and was now making suspicious strokes on the paper, "If you are too good for the rest of the first years, we will transfer you another year more fitting for your level, or maybe allow you to take some subjects with the other years or something. But only if you're really good, I guess."

"Ah." He twiddled his thumbs as he saw the teacher make what seemed like a cross.

"Yes, but that rarely happens."

"So it has happened before?"

"Yes, but like I said, rarely."

"Who?" he was curious.

"Two students in third year right now, another two freshmen in high school. And a couple more already graduated, way back." The teacher had an answer key before her, and she tapped her bottom lip thoughtfully with her red pen.

"Oh."

"Yes, but like I said, only if you are really good."

He remained silent, eyes following the curled scratches on the vandalized table. They should be replaced. The teacher had moved on to his essay. There was a pregnant silence between them, in which the smooth sound of ball point against paper could be heard as clearly as crickets on a summer night.

The teacher counted the marks, mascaraed eyes widening slightly. That was it. He knew there was something wrong with the three twos in a row. If he had just chosen that one…

"Well, Echizen-kun, you have done much better than expected. I think you are at average, maybe slightly below average-second year level, or high first year level. If you do well on the rest of your tests, the school might consider a promotion." She beamed.

The rest of the tests? There were more tests?

Smiling at Ryoma's reaction to this pronouncement, she said, in assurance, "Don't worry, you'll be fine. Just keep a cool head."

He laughed nervously.

The teacher took off her spectacles and polished it on the hem of her shirt, "Echizen-kun."

Ryoma stopped at the door and turned around, "yes?"

"Great job."

Ryoma managed to arrange his features into an awkward smile.

"Thank you." He bowed and left the classroom, patting his face to wake himself up.

* * *

It was Saturday. Ryoma got mail.

_Dear Parent/Guardian of __Echizen Ryoma__, _

_We are pleased to inform you that your child/ward has passed the placement test with a score of 23.48. Congratulations. It is our great honour to inform you…_

Blah blah blah. The usual. So this was what his studying had gotten him? Big deal.

So he passed the placement tests.

_We are happy to announce that your child/ward has been advanced_…

Well this was just fascinating.

_Due to his outstanding performance_…

If they wanted to computer generate it, they should have made it less obvious.

_We hope you will continue to support your child/ward in his life at Seishun Gakuen. Thank you for your invaluable support…_

How ironic. There were instructions stapled at the back of the sheet. An information sheet, and some kind of form.

His particulars. Didn't the school have those already? Well. He filled in the form, in blue. His name. _Echizen Ryoma_. Address. _The one in Japan right? _Elementary school. _The one in America right? L.A.S.S.Y. _Middle School. Redundant, but which one should he put in?

Never mind. _Seishun Gakuen it is._

_I hereby declare that all information provided in the above is true_… And a blank box, no doubt for a signature.

Oh.

His father's was too complicated. His mother's was simpler. _On with it then_. Well practiced hands easily recreated the loops and circles his mother liked to put while displaying her name on paper.

There. _Perfect_.

* * *

"Ryoma-kun!" He brightened, "I've got you a little gift!" Sunday afternoon. He was rushing his unfinished homework.

"Gift?" his face passive, "For what?"

"Heard you got advanced, congratulations."

"From who?" He nearly choked, voicing his suspicion, "Are you _stalking_ me?"

"Nope, but I have my ways," Fuji grinned evilly, "Anyway…"

He opened the box and pressed it into Ryoma's hands, revealing a little, tiny, potted cactus.

It was round. It was spiky. It was small. _Cute_.

"er… Thanks!" that was certainly… unconventional. _But cute_.

"You can name it," Fuji sounded very enthusiastic, "And it comes with an instruction manual."

"Name it?" _Instruction manual? An electronic cactus?_

"Anything you like."

He ran through the catalogue of names in his head, finally selecting one.

"Fuji." He said. _Let's see how he'll react. Ha. _

"My name?"

"Yep, you don't like it?" that would be odd. Smirk smirk.

"Nope, but now you have to take EXTRA care of it, since it bears my name." His eyes were flashing dangerously.

Instantly regretting his decision, Ryoma tried to cover up.

"Em, maybe _Cactus_?"

"No fun! Nope, you can't change the name."

"Egoist." Ryoma muttered, just loud enough for Fuji to hear.

"Whatever you say. Please take care of me from now on!" Fuji shook the cactus a little, like a puppet and inclined it forward.

_Let's all look simultaneously at the ceiling._

* * *

"Ryoma!" The soft voice threw him unceremoniously into a pile of fabric. Consciousness.

"You're rude. What?" he rubbed his eyes groggily. Fuji was looming over him.

"We should get to know each other, seeing as we will be living together" Fuji smiled.

"It's already been almost a month, and how do you suggest we do that Fuji-senpai?"

"For starters, you can drop the honorifics."

"Fuji?"

"Good!"

"Okay, let me sleep now," spewing out all the profanities he could think of, he pulled the blankets over his head, it was still dark outside.

"And next, you can follow me to practice, to see what we do!"

"Don't want." His voice was muffled from under the sheets.

"Oh come on." He was picked up, and the blankets were rolled around him, rendering his limbs useless.

"What the—FUJI! LET ME OUT!"

"Okay!" He was rolled out in a heap onto the bathroom floor, "You'd better wash up now, _we_ have to leave in fifteen minutes." He placed extra emphasis on the word.

"Who wants to leave, idiot." He gathered the blankets and lumped it around him, leaning against the wall and trying to sleep.

"I want you ready in ten minutes, alright?" Ryoma opened one drowsy eye.

Seeing Fuji's expression, Ryoma relented, and proceeded to splash icy cold water on his face. Once he was more or less awake, he threw his T-shirt in the sink, filling it to the brim with water. The blanket he threw landed right onto his bed. Nice.

The uniform. He pulled on the shirt, only to find that his head was stuck. Did the uniform shrink? Or did his head enlarge. He didn't want to end up like, what was that? The red queen…

"Arrghhh!" he tried to force his head through the tiny hole, starting to panic, thrashing his head and tugging the shirt downwards.

He heard a signature chuckle just behind him, "Ryoma, that's the sleeve." Since when had he gotten here?

"Oh, right." He quickly righted this mistake, awkwardly.

Fuji sighed and shook his head sympathetically, "and you're doing the buttons wrong."

Ryoma was ticked off, to say the least, "Well, I was woken up at what, five thirty am, with only six hours of sleep, dragged out of bed and now you expect me to do buttons properly?" he riposted, again noting that there was still one button missing. Not that it made any difference. The uniform was so thick_. Just like him_.

"That's an odd way of putting yet, but essentially correct."

"Idiot." Ryoma muttered, "And I'm going to _your_ training in a school uniform."

"Don't worry, I won't make you play," _**If you don't want to.**_

"Then why are you dragging me to MORNING practice now?"

"I figured you would want to have fun once in a while!"

Ryoma cursed and undid all of the buttons, buttoning them one by one again.

"You're too slow, you know that?"

"It's not my fault my fingers don't coordinate in the morning, at six am. And I don't need help!" he added hotly as Fuji moved to assist the buttoning process.

"Fine fine," he held his hands up in surrender, "just get your bag and meet me downstairs in five minutes okay?"

Ryoma didn't reply, buckling his belt and pulling it tight. This was going to be a long day.

* * *

"This feels much like family bonding, no?"

"No."

"That's not nice Ryoma, you already have me ten minutes late."

"Who asked you to bring me then?"

"true… true…"

They continued in silence. Ryoma shifted the file in his arms, which never seemed to stop slipping, and wiped his forehead with a sleeve.

"It's getting warmer now isn't it," Fuji commented, pulling off his blue and white windbreaker to sling it over a shoulder.

"Yes," he agreed, pushing the sweaty locks of hair out of his face. _You think?_

"Hm, you should get a summer uniform."

"Isn't that for summer?"

"There's no school in summer."

"Then why call it a summer uniform then?"

"Global warming, global warming." Fuji gave a regal shake of his head.

"I see."

"Well, I guess I still have my own, so no point buying more for you."

"Oh. Thanks." Ryoma's eyelids felt like metal.

"No problem, just take it as a hand me down, from your dear older brother."

"I'm not your brother!"

"Almost brothers," Fuji folded his arms, smiling.

"I wouldn't have a brother like… like… you."

"Is there something wrong with having a brother like me?" His smile became a tad less dazzling. This scene was agonizingly familiar. As if Yuuta wasn't enough. _**Right**_.

"Well, for one, my brother must be able to defeat me at everything, and better than me at all, or at least most of the things I do."

"Oh?" this was different from what he expected.

"Yes, and then, I must be able to defeat him."

"That doesn't make sense."

"Oh yes it does," Ryoma said dismissively, he seemed to have woken up, for real.

"And my brother must be tall," he looked at Fuji for a while, as if measuring his height, and thought for a moment, "and he must be able to make fun of me in whatever he says."

"Uh-huh."

"Yes," Ryoma was genuinely talking to himself now, "and he must be a worthy competitor, someone I will want to defeat. And he must be able to convince me to do even the stupidest things, and he must be able to bully me without me knowing, and he must awe all of my friends with his superb—"

"That's interesting, do you have a brother?"

Ryoma was caught off guard, "Do you?"

"I asked you first."

"I asked you last."

They stared at each other for a few seconds before lapsing into silence once more.

"Well, we're here." Fuji motioned Ryoma to put down his bag, while he himself took out his tennis racquets.

And then they walked, Ryoma, feeling extremely self conscious as the only one in a school uniform, and Fuji, with the usual happy-go-lucky attitude. He stood out as a black dot on the green background of the court. Tezuka was already waiting for them, while the rest of the regulars ran their rounds.

"Fuji, you're late."

"I know."

"Twenty extra laps. And what is he doing here?" He looked at Ryoma, with what seemed like distain, Ryoma couldn't be sure. He could never be sure with the captain, it seemed.

"I invited him, he's thinking of joining the club you see."

"What? No! I…" Ryoma spluttered.

Fuji sniggered in a Fuji manner before starting his laps. He and Tezuka watched as he jogged to the start point and started running, his hair swishing in the exact same path from left to right, left to right.

"So," Tezuka struck up a conversation, watching Fuji run circles around the court, "I heard you got advanced."

Ryoma groaned, "Does everyone know now?"

"Most of the team, if that's what you mean."

"Was it Fuji?" he groaned.

"You're right, funnily enough." Ryoma snuck a glance out of the corner of his eye. Tezuka was probably the only one who could say that with a straight face. Hm.

"I see." It was so much easier to talk to someone like Tezuka, no strange questions.

"Do you want to join the tennis club?" So much for no strange questions.

"I don't know." Ryoma replied truthfully.

"Either way, please don't interrupt training again, we do have to practice for tournaments you know."

"Can I watch?"

Tezuka pointed to the bench by the second courts, "there."

"Thanks." He sat down on the bench, only to be joined by an old lady moments later. Dressed in pink.

"So, you thinking of joining?" She set a box in the space between them.

"Who are you?" He knew how rude he sounded, he just didn't bother to correct his language at six thirty am.

"Coach. So, do you want to join?"

"What?" That misunderstanding should be have been quite logical, seeing as he had come to practice almost once every week, thanks to that scheming tensai, whom, Ryoma was glad to note, was still running his given laps.

"Your dad called me."

"Does everyone here know my dad?" It was a little bit creepy.

"I was his tennis coach, didn't he tell you?"

"No." Like he would ever tell him that_. How old _are_ you?_

"Well, he told me that your tennis was excellent, and he isn't the only one."

"What, who else?"

"Him, him and him." He pointed to the three regulars, on the courts, whom Ryoma vaguely recognized as Momo, Inui and Eiji. Eiji did a running start and leapt over the net, rolling on the floor and into a standing position.

"Oh, them." Their judgment could hardly be trusted. Further illustrated by Momo rolling on the ground in pain after attempting to imitate Eiji and landing in a somewhat unusual way.

"So, do you want to join?" the question was asked again. Ryoma sighed.

"I don't know."

The teacher-coach stood up, "It's because of _him_, isn't it?"

"You know." He didn't need to ask.

He was rapped on the head with the handle of a racquet, "Of course I know, I'm not that isolated."

"I see." He glowered, so father had told this person and probably the rest of the Japanese population as well.

"Well, I'm not forcing you into joining, but let me tell you, I don't think Ryoga would want you to quit like this."

He suddenly felt anger build up within him, just what did this woman know? She was just a stranger.

"You don't know what's going on, don't talk like you do." he snarled.

"Am I wrong?" she raised an eyebrow.

Ryoma hunched down, "But, I promised…"

"Promised who? Ryoga?"

"No, my dad."

"Who, knowing him, probably instantly regretted his decision. He's not exactly the brightest bulb in the socket you know. Why do you think he sent you here?"

Ryoma snorted at the last comment, but instantly became sombre once more, "because…" He couldn't finish the sentence.

"It's not as complicated as you think, Ryoma."

"Oh?"

"Tennis." She said simply.

"But Ryoga… he…"

"Did he ever tell you to stop?"

"No…" he started slowly.

"Then why quit now? I can tell you never properly gave up, right? You still played didn't you?"

"Not competitively."

"And you still trained, am I right?"

"So what?"

"No need to get defensive. There is nothing wrong with that."

Hands folded primly in his lap, Ryoma crossed his legs, aware of the curious glances the regulars were giving him.

"I still don't know if he will allow." He said adamantly.

"Who?"

"Everyone."

"Ryoma, Ryoma, Ryoma, You're just complicating this issue yourself. Well, I won't push you, but you still have to join a club, according to school rules. If you want to apply, you know where to find me." She winked and walked off to the first court, where she started telling Eiji off for using the net as a hurdle. Momo was still cussing at his almost broken tailbone.

He sighed.

"You know, Ryoma, everyone wants you to join, or at least try out." Ryoma jumped as Fuji appeared behind him, placing a hand over his heart as he realized that it was just human.

"Not everyone, it seems," his eyes found Tezuka, who was barking instructions to the team.

"Even Tezuka," Fuji chuckled, following Ryoma's gaze.

"No he doesn't."

"Yes he does. He's just insulted that a person like you does not think highly enough of Seigaku's team to bother to try out."

"Person like me?"

"A person who knows how to play tennis."

"That's half the world."

"Precisely."

"If I do try out, one of the regulars would be displaced."

"As confident as ever, ne?"

"And you?"

"What about me?"

"Do you want me to join?"

"Saa… I think you will be a valuable asset to the team." He finished with a nod.

"Couldn't you go and get some other person, like, I dunno, Kachiro?" he recalled the short boy in his class. Nice guy.

"He's not in second year."

"So?"

"Freshmen aren't allowed on the regular team."

"You were wooing me for the team long before I became a second year."

"Odd choice of words."

"But correct, no?"

"Fundamentally, yes"

"Then what's with the complaint?"

"Very wise… Well, I'd better get going, or I'll have to run extra laps again."

"Good for you, I'll watch."

"Feel free to join us any time," Fuji teased.

"Shut up."

Fuji picked up his racquet, and also headed for the first court, where Eiji had resumed using the net as a hurdle.

The not-so-gentle hitting of balls worked like a lullaby for him.

"OUCH!" he fell off the bench. A yellow ball rolled off the court.

"Oops, sorry!" Fuji waved his racquet in apology. The guilty party for the lump forming on his head.

Ryoma tried to find as many word combinations for evil, sadistic, genius, and idiot. There were twenty four. No, wait, he could reuse the words, which means there were…

Frozen brains couldn't think. He picked out the first two words that came to mind: Mindless freak.

Which Fuji didn't hear because he never got the chance to say it out loud.

"Hoi hoi! I want to try too nya!"

Another tennis ball hit his head.

"Fshuuuu."

His head was swelling up at this second shot. No, third.

"Let me try!"

And yet another tennis ball struck him on the left side of his head.

"Don."

He scrambled to his feet and started running for his life. Literally.

"For data, let's see how many balls it takes to…"

Ryoma tried to dodge the ball but it kept following him. _Following_ him. Rogue tennis balls for the love of—

Suddenly, he was being pelted with balls.

"Seishounen you baka, hurry up and join the team!" His father appeared on the school rooftop, wearing nothing but a bathrobe, his voice echoing throughout the school compound...

"We won't stop until you join the team, nya!" Eiji's eyes suddenly turned red, and he was surrounded by vampire versions of everyone in the regular team, their fangs bared, arms holding tennis racquets raised in preparation…

"AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

"Ochibi! Something wrong?"

"DON'T even THINK about it." He sat up and covered his head with his hands, tumbling out of the bench but somehow managing to roll and land in a seated position with his legs stretched out.

"Hoi hoi! I want to try too nya!"

"AARRRGHH! GET AWAY FROM ME YOU BLOOD THIRSTY…"

"Data…"

"NOOOO, I'll join! I'll join the stupid club! Just get AWAY from me!"

"Hey! Don't call our club stupid."

"wait…"

"Did he…?"

"He did!"

"Join?"

"the?"

"Club?"

"JOY!"

Since when did he get so popular. He was beginning to doubt his own judgment now.

"What? No."

"You just said it nya, no backing out now! I'll go get buchou, he'll draw up the schedule."

"No, Wait!"

The devils bounced off to inform their captain about this amazing bit of news, leaving Ryoma on the ground with one arm stretched forward in a final act of desperation.

"Bad dream? Ryoma?"

"NO ohnononononono, stay away from me, and you guys! Come back!"

He stood up to run after the group only to be sprawled out on the ground again, having just tripped over a lone abandoned racquet.

Fuji crouched down beside him with his infuriatingly bright smile. He had to have rigged this. Got into his brain and meddled with the wires, maybe with his stupid tennis ball and stupid tennis racquet and stupid…

"Hug to make it better?" he stretched out his arms to his side.

"I hate you," Ryoma proclaimed venomously. He had an abrasion on his forehead. He could feel it.

* * *

Oh my sky!

Managed to finish this chapter in 2 DAYS! Well, I guess that is to be expected, since we have no school today and had the afternoon off for Monday (exam and marking days). BUT YEH! I'm gonna celebrate now! My sister and I want to try baking a cake out of brownie mix. I don't think it is going to work (i've got as much cooking skill as a drunken moose)

And anyway, our oven is still malfunctioning, so we'll have to wait. I guess we're going to have to get someone to fix it. Every time we turn it on, the ENTIRE houses' electricity trips. Good thing it was in the day. My little sis would have freaked out if it was dark. Well, after the longish pause, here is chapter fifteen! Wait, this should be at the top.

Bye! And good luck for those who still have exams! And to the Primary 6's, hope you enjoy your well deserved post-PSLE break. BE SURE TO PREPARE FOR SEC-SCHOOL APPS! If you haven't DSAed, of course.

Love,

MC


	16. Chapter 16

Yes. I know, Ryoma in one of those higher up classes is way so much more cliché, but i couldn't resist :p. ANW, it is so much easier to be advanced nowadays, innit? I know two people in my school who are supposed to be in a class for people one year younger than them. And then again, there are also those who are supposed to be a level up.

The sticky outy tongue face doesn't work with calibri...

Well, enjoy! Our school holidays begin in mid November! Ish. I'm going to go with my little sister to visit my Uncle (I think he's in Shanghai right now). Hm. I haven't seen him in five to six years. Wonder how he's doing. He's rich. I think he got married, but I didn't get to go to the wedding... My third sister said that the food was awesome... No fair. She got a mini holiday just because of that AND SHE GOT TO GO TO TAIWAN! LIKE, THE BIRTHPLACE OF BUBBLE TEA!

Hope you Like this chapter!

Bye!

* * *

Ryoma climbed up the extra two flights of stairs. It was supposed to be a special Monday, yet he felt like his brain had fried itself over the weekend, or probably just that morning. Well, at least he didn't have to do that stupid skit for drama. Though the lack of sleep was really taking its toll. On him.

He stood outside the door thought for a moment, before opening the door.

"BE QUIET!" Ryoma recoiled and quickly closed the door again. Didn't seem like a good time to intrude.

Almost instantly, the ruckus was silenced. That teacher was good.

"Sensei," he heard a small timid voice, "I think there's someone at the door…?"

"Yes, come in!"

He felt like a criminal on the way to the guillotine. With all the confidence he had, he swung the door open before ambling into the teacher at the desk.

"EH? ECHIZEN?" A violet haired teen had jumped out of his chair and was pointing at the short ex-freshman incredulously.

"Ah, so you're Echizen-kun?" The teacher turned to face him. He froze.

"Yes." His voice sounded normal, thank goodness, but he had to use all the strength he had to keep his jaws in their sockets. The tennis coach was a math teacher. That put his dad's hopelessness in math to a whole new level. A whole new level.

"Everyone! This is Echizen Ryoma. He's joining the class. Echizen-kun, I am Ryuuzaki-sensei, and I'm your form and math teacher."

There were murmurs among the students as they took in this piece of sensational news. Ryoma was uncomfortable, to say the least. Wasn't this a bit much?

Then it came.

"He's TINY! How old are you?"

_Tiny? Tiny again?_

"First year," Momo answered for him, "But how… how…?"

"He passed the placement tests." The entire class seemed to drop out of their chairs in shock.

This was definitely too much.

"Hello. I am Echizen Ryoma, pleased to meet you." He bowed, seeing as it seemed to be a custom.

The girl population let out simultaneous 'Awwww's. Females had strange ways of showing their appreciation.

He would stay as far away from that population as humanly possible. Or maybe the male populace looked more dangerous.

He should just be antisocial and be done with it.

"Echizen! Echizen! Here! Here!" Momo had evicted his seatmate from the table and was waving frantically to get his attention. Having no other choice, he was forced to bear with Momo's loud comments of 'I have no idea what is going on' while listening to the lecture.

"And so, that is why a squared is equivalent to b cubed. Any questions?" Ryuuzaki-sensei capped the marker and twirled it in her hands carelessly.

"Sensei! Shouldn't it be—"

The teacher buried her face in one hand, holding up the other to shush him, "Don't ask now Momo, you'll confuse the rest, see me after class."

Ryoma had to try very hard to ignore his sulking partner, who was flicking pencil shavings out of the little groove on the table. The lesson soon ended.

* * *

Study period. Aware of turning of heads in his direction every time he made a noise, Ryoma turned the page as quietly and slowly as he could. Ten pairs of eyes flashed him looks before turning away. He was now stuck on page fifty three. And he wanted to know what happened with that girl. Did she really commit suicide?

That was it. He was never going to spend lesson well.

If all else fails, go to the bathroom.

"Sensei, may I go to the bathroom?"

"Go ahead." The teacher waved short sightedly to the door, squinting his eyes at something or other written on the paper he was looking at.

He took off. Ah, bathroom was always a nice refuge.

O0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

"Sugimura! Get back here!"

The door to the bathroom opened to reveal a very large third year, who was wearing a very scary expression.

"Detention, three hours" came the smooth voice.

"What?"

"Make that four." The voice said smugly.

Snatching the pink note, the boy named Sugimura stormed off, knocking Ryoma on the shoulder as he did so. He was taller than Ryoga, though that probably wasn't saying much. _Huh_.

"Echizen Ryoma," his name was dragged out and said with inflections on all the wrong places. "You owe me twenty five thousand." The doctor was leaning on the doorframe, without his glasses.

"Abuse of power." Ryoma replied.

"He deserved it, brat." He swung a camera around on its strap, clearly broken beyond repair. This showed an uncanny likeness to that tennis playing hyperly calm, Person.

"For what? Finding you smoking in the bathroom? What are you doing on this floor anyway?"

"No, I wasn't smoking. I only do that when stressed, so don't get the wrong idea. As to why I'm here, I thought I might want to avoid you for a bit, but now that you're here—"

"So you were stressed?"

"I would prefer it to be more like some sort of inability to handle pressure—"

"Stress."

The doctor hmph-ed and released he strap. The camera soared through the air before landing with a splash somewhere within a stall. The two stopped for a moment, calculating the consequences of this little affair, before coming to the conclusion that whatever punishment they had to face was probably going to be less unpleasant than fishing about wherever that camera landed.

"You still owe me twenty five thousand."

"You don't even need glasses, judging by the way you can see perfectly well right now."

"I need them to ward off evil fans."

"Fans of what? You?" he scoffed. They had to have extreme prosopagnosia. (A/N I apologize to anyone who does have this)

"Fans of my boundless beauty," the doctor said sarcastically, finishing off with a flip of his hair.

"Right…" he would rather not have seen that. Now he had that image burnt into his mind. "So, just change the spoilt lens, since it is not prescribed, it should be cheap enough."

"I've always wanted to change the frame anyway. You just provided the perfect chance." He

"I'll sue."

"And waste a few million on lawyer and court fees? Might as well pay me the twenty five thousand."

"I don't want to."

"I assure you, all funding will be donated to the optical store. Anyway, I can always give you a year's worth of detention for damage of school property."

"I did not damage school property."

"My spectacles belong to me, and I belong to the school, so therefore, my spectacles are school property. QED." He pulled at his coat in a very smug manner.

"And you are going to explain it to the principal and everyone else how?"

"Do you not trust my debating skills? Or would you like me to demonstrate?"

"I think I'll pass."

"Speaking of pass…" The doctor scratched his neck, "I heard you passed the placement tests."

Ryoma mumbled under his breath, "You heard, huh, stalker." Just like everyone.

"News travels fast in the gossip system of middle school teachers." He paced around the large empty space opposite the mirrors.

"Well, so what that I've passed?"

"Prepare to be picked on."

"Huh?"

"Cute little boys should stay in their own level. All the more for cute and nerdy little boys." He suddenly stopped walking and pivoted to face Ryoma.

"What are you trying to say."

"Nothing. If you get attacked, don't say I didn't warn you."

"I won't."

"Bit sure of yourself aren't you?"

"Yes."

"Won't your teacher get suspicious if you stay in here too long?"

"It's study period."

"But still, ten minutes in the bathroom? Do you want me to write you a medical certificate for an upset stomach, which will put you out of physical activity for another—"

"Abuse of power." Ryoma hissed.

"No, that's called being smart," he tapped his head, lowering his gaze to face Ryoma.

"Wow, that sounds awfully hollow." Ryoma declared, finally finding a chance to insult him.

The doctor stopped in his movement to bend down and stood back up, "You still owe me twenty five thousand."

He straightened and gave his cloak a final shake, putting the lensless spectacles back on.

"You can just go around without glasses, can't you?"

"Don't feel like it."

With that, he was gone.

* * *

The papers were getting warmer and warmer as he rubbed the pieces against each other with his index finger and thumb. Maybe he could start a fire.

The students were already packing their bags, ready to rush out the moment the teacher declared her lesson over. It was already five minutes overtime. Maybe she got paid more.

"And that's all." She set her marker down on the table, "any questions?"

She was definitely torturing them, by the way she walked ridiculously slowly to disconnect her laptop.

"No questions?" she looked around expectantly, "No?"

The whole class shook their heads frantically.

"Okay. Good. Class dismissed."

Woosh.

Amazing.

Ryoma threw his paper pieces down and shuffled out of the class, where a few of the slower ones were still stuffing books into their bags.

"Hey! Hey Ryoma-kun!" Momo was calling him.

"Yes?"

Momo scratched his head sheepishly, "could you watch my stuff for me? I have to see sensei for a while, real quick."

"Okay," No harm, right?

Momo extracted his file from the backpack and ran off, leaving Ryoma standing in the middle of the corridor outside the cafeteria, with an extra bag.

Seconds turned to minutes, each minute in turn inching towards the one hour mark.

Echizen Ryoma was not angry. No. He was merely a little curious at his seatmate's sense of time, which seemed to be just as atrocious as his brother's. Yes, and maybe just a tad completely and irrevocably enraged.

He was going to look for him.

* * *

"Momoshiro, see, you take this, subtract this, and you get this!" The old lady was getting fed-up.

"But that is a negative number!" Momo pointed out.

"Yes, that is why you take that and subtract it here, not there!"

Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to intrude.

"But I thought you were supposed to invert the numbers?"

"That is for multiplication!"

"Oh! So then it will ten point three two five?"

"That's it!" She smacked her forehead with a hand, "No training until you pass your next test."

Momo gawped in horror, "But sensei! The exam is in five weeks!"

"Good! Ample time for you to study."

"But.. but… the tournament is next month!"

"Is it?" She frowned and tapped her pen thoughtfully, "Hmmm, then, I will arrange a quiz for you next week, if you don't pass that…" she left him hanging on this foreboding note.

Momo gulped.

"Bu…bu…but…"

"But what?"

"What if Buchou kicks me out of the team?" he whispered.

"Do you think I want my team to sink into chaos? No. And I would rather not have to hold ranking matches again."

"Because of what happened last time eh?" Momo elbowed the coach playfully.

"Do that one more time and you'll end up armless."

"Uhh, so what do I tell buchou?"

"The truth."

"Sensei!" Momo gasped, shocked.

"What?"

"He will definitely replace me!"

"He won't if you pass the quiz."

"So no training until next week?"

"N-O"

"Can I go for—"

"No games, no external coaching."

"Not even—"

"NO." she slammed her palm onto the table. The nib of her pen broke off.

"Okay okay…"

As the teacher re-entered the staff lounge, Momo gathered his worksheets and papers, sliding them into one clear plastic pocket, which was falling apart due to the excessive amount of unfiled papers from over five subjects.

"So much for 'a while, real quick'."

The taller boy's head snapped up.

"You heard that?" he demanded.

"Of course. Do you need—"

"NO. I can manage." He knocked the pile of worksheets (undone, by the looks of it) to straighten them out into one neat stack.

"And what are you going to tell your teammates?"

"I'll tell them the truth." Momo said nobly.

"Ah. I see. Mind if I join you?"

"For what?"

He shrugged, "nothing, just curious."

"Sure!"

* * *

"What happened to the truth?" Ryoma smirked. The talk with Tezuka had been short, brief and completely off.

"Stop that, you're making me feel bad."

"So you're going to just skip training for one week?" Now this he had got to hear.

Momo stretched out his arms in helplessness, "I guess that's the plan."

"I don't think that's a wise decision."

"I know," he was hunched over and gloomy, "But what else can I do?"

"You can study so hard that you fall sick."

"Not an option."

"Or, you can just tell them you decided to skip training because you felt you needed a change of scene."

"Again, not an option."

"Fine, go ahead and sit in a clinic everyday and touch the surface of every public facility in school."

"Not possible."

"Why?"

"I need to pretend I've fallen sick, not really fall sick."

"How about—"

"Hey, wanna get some burgers?" Momo was staring into the glass panel of a fast food outlet with a dreamy, detached expression.

Now why hadn't he ever seen that restaurant there before?

"I don't have money on me."

"I'll pay," Momo declared generously, "Come on."

There was a little tinkling of a wind chime as the door opened, and the person behind the counter smiled at them, tucking stray wisps of hair into her cap. It seemed to be a very slow day for them, seeing as there was only one other person in the small restaurant.

"Welcome!"

Ryoma pulled up a chair, the menu stood propped up in front of him.

"Well then, what do you think?"

"Huh?" Ryoma stared at him over the menu.

"What should I do?" Momo looked genuinely panicked, wringing his hands and bending the laminated paper cover of the menu.

"I told you all my ideas already, you rejected them all."

"But… there isn't anything more for me to do!" Momo tugged at his short spiky hair, as if trying to pull ideas out.

"Hm, you can say you played a match with so and so, got beaten so badly you were mentally traumatized by tennis."

"Then what about after the week?"

"Say you went to see a therapist and poof! It's fine now." Ryoma noted the bright pictures of the meals. Delicious.

"By then, he would have replaced me already!" Momo howled, "oh, and that story isn't exactly believable either."

"Then I'm all out." Ryoma placed his menu back flat onto the table, standing up to make his order, "you want anything?"

"No, no appetite…" Momo slumped down against the chair.

"Suit yourself." He picked up Momo's wallet which was sitting dolefully on the table.

The girl behind the counter lowered her cap as he went closer, "Set A."

"Having here or to go?"

"Having here."

"Would you like anything with that?"

"No thanks."

"All right, please wait a moment," she entered his order into the computer before busying herself with the tray.

Burger, fries, drink.

Fanta.

"And that would be four eighty." (A/N in hundreds)

The wallet was a mass of notes, receipts, cards and scraps of paper. Photographs, even. He was having some difficulty getting the money out without ten extra things falling out.

"Thank you, please enjoy your meal." The girl smiled and pushed the tray towards Ryoma.

Mumbling a word of thanks, Ryoma balanced the tray in one hand, which was already holding the half open wallet, and the other trying to keep the change he had just been given. A straw rolled off the shallow end of the tray. He wasn't going to pick it up.

The tray was set down with a loud bang, and Ryoma poured the fries out of the box, noting the delectable colour of the potato. Apparently, so did Momo.

"Here, your money. I'll pay you back on tomorrow."

"No need, but…" he pointed to the still wrapped burger, drool almost gathering in pools at his feet.

"Oh? Go get your own then."

"I don't want to go." Momo whined, "can you buy it for me?"

"No." Ryoma pushed three fries into his mouth. Mmm, salty.

"But…"

"Have you decided what you are going to tell Tezuka-senpai? 'I'm not feeling well right now' won't suffice for a week. So I told you, fall sick."

"But then I can't come to school! And I need a parent's letter."

"I see… Then it's your problem then, sorry."

He looked so utterly despaired that Ryoma decided it was maybe for the best if Momo took the burger.

"There." He held out the round wrapped package, orange greaseproof paper.

"Really!" Momo's face lit up instantly, "thanks!"

There he sat, eating like there wasn't a care in the world. How easily satisfied.

"Momoshiro?"

Momo looked up, saw who it was, and gave a yelp, frantically dusting the crumbs of bread out of his face.

"Oh hey, hi!" he stood up, one hand hiding the half eaten burger behind his back, the other supporting him against the table, on which he was leaning. A piece of lettuce was in his hair.

"You got something in your hair." The girl giggled, plucking the lettuce leaf off and dropping it onto the table, "and who is this?"

She turned to Ryoma. A pretty face. Framed by brown hair.

"This is Echizen Ryoma, my classmate. Friend. "

"Classmate? But he's so cuuuutee!" she pinched his cheeks, "Are you really Momo's age? Look at him!"

"He's twelve." Momo cut in, sitting back down onto the cushioned chair, "What are you doing here?" he questioned before the girl could ask hers.

"Just eating," she beamed, "I thought you seemed familiar." She released Ryoma's poor cheeks. Ryoma massaged his abused face.

"Well, do you… want to join us?"

"I'd love to, but I have to go now," she grinned apologetically, "Sorry."

"Don't! Apologize. I mean, it isn't, your fault." He put his burger back on the tray, wiping his hands discreetly on his lap. Ryoma raised one eyebrow, _well well well_. Who knew?

The girl giggled, "Well bye! Oh and I'm An by the way, Tachibana An." She smiled at Ryoma.

"O-oh. An-chan?" He gave a small smile, just to make fun of Momo.

"Right! Kawiiii!" she cupped his face and ruffled his hair, skipping out of the shop with brown hair swishing behind her. Ryoma smirked and turned back to Momo, who had picked up his burger again, staring at it like something had just popped out and poked his face.

"Oh, Tachibana An?" his smirk grew, if possible, even wider, as Momo shook out if his reverie.

"What?" he snapped, taking a large chunk out of his burger and relishing it as if it was the flesh of some mortal enemy.

"I just thought of an idea."

"What?" Momo, all hostility gone, asked urgently.

"How about…" he whispered into Momo's ear. Momo's expression melted into one of shock, anger, and embarrassment. His face grew red.

"WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU? NO NO NO."

Ryoma shrugged, not that the reaction was unexpected anyway, "suit yourself."

It hadn't been a plan exactly. More like an experiment. Just to see how Momo would react. Ryoma leaned back and observed the violet haired boy before him. This was unaccounted for, but not exactly unwelcome…

"What are you looking at?" Momo asked, still flushed with discomfiture.

"Nothing," Ryoma said innocently, he had never loved playing matchmaker, but maybe this time would be interesting.

* * *

He had tryouts scheduled.

He hadn't meant it to happen. It just did.

It seemed he had finally realized that the tennis ball pelting incident three days ago was probably just a dream. How humiliating. He had screamed too. And fallen flat on his face. Good thing Fuji was the only one there. Without a camera.

"Echizen!"

"Yes?"

"What is the answer to one b?"

"Um, he taught his disciples two different methods, because he did not want the two of them to be their own competitors."

"Good, but you missed out the second point, Miyamoto, can you tell us what that is?"

The bespectacled girl stood up and nervously recited her answer.

"Okay, now if you will turn to page forty five and do the questions for homework, due tomorrow. Class dismissed."

"Momo-senpai, what is the next lesson?"

Momo groaned, banging his head against the table, "Food and Nutrition."

"That… doesn't include cooking does it?"

Momo nodded his head in sheer and utter dejection, something that immediately rubbed off onto Ryoma the moment he set foot into the kitchen. This was not going to be good. The pots and pans looked positively dementedly shiny, while the knives suddenly turned into sharp daggers once carried around in the pocket of someone who worked for the…

"Okay class, please come forward, today, we are baking peanut cookies. Watch me closely. First, you take the sugar and butter and…"

* * *

He had been paying attention, so why did his cookie dough become so… strange?

Nevermind, baking always did wonders to everything. Spooning the mixture carefully onto the greaseproof paper, as instructed, he pushed it into the oven and waited.

How did that song go?

_One minute, two minutes, three minutes, four.  
Once I walked into a kitchen door.  
Five minutes, six minutes, seven minutes, eight,  
This big bruise is jus—_

"Who is at station fourteen, can I see you for a moment?" the teacher interrupted his little tune, staring at the oven with a kind of bimbotic horror.

Ryoma looked from the number painted on the wall back to the teacher again. Fourteen, was that bad luck?

"Yes sensei?"

"What did you do with the dough?"

"What do you mean?"

He went to his oven, which was a sorry sight to behold. His cookies, if it could even be referred to as that, were melting. Lumps of liquid butter and peanuts and sugar. It looked, like vomit.

And possibly worse.

Melting.

"I don't know." And that was just about it.

"Did you do what I had asked? Sugar? Butter? Flour? Eggs?"

Shoot, flour.

"Um, I think I forgot to add the flour."

O0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

"There, there, don't be sad!" Momo was still chortling as they headed down to the tennis courts.

"Shut up, it wasn't like yours was any better."

"At least mine was tangible."

"Yeah, as tangible as—"

"At least I got to actually eat mine."

"I wouldn't want to eat art materials."

"What did you say?"

"Honestly, I could have used it to do charcoal paintings." _Ha, beat that_.

"You should talk, seeing as you, oh! Forgot to add flour." He sneered. He beat it.

Ryoma turned pink, "That was a completely justified mistake."

"Right, because everyone forgets to add flour to their cookie dough. Honestly, even I remembered." He continued laughing his head off all the way to the changing rooms.

"Momo-chan, what's so funny nya?"

Between breaths, Momo managed to twist the happenings of their stupid cooking class to make him look absolutely and completely idiotic. More than he already did, of course.

"And then he said, 'Um, I think I forgot to add the flour.'"

Ryoma was seething as he pulled on his PE uniform, but couldn't say anything, seeing as Momo's story was true, for the most part.

"And the dough was melting in the oven, and the baking sheet was dripping with the oily melted…!"

Ryoma slammed his locker shut before stomping off in a childish display. A part of him was wishing that he had got Momo to quit just that morning.

"Momo, there is a ninety five percent chance that you overdid it."

"What?" he shrugged, "it was the truth."

* * *

"Okay, Echizen, you're up against Kachiro."

That wimpy looking kid, was he serious?

Right hand all the way. Go ambidexterity.

He didn't bother with a twist serve this time.

(A/N can't write games very well…)

* * *

"You can't be serious. He's the best player in the year, how…?"

Kachiro was panting, leaning against his racquet. Ryoma seemed to find it amusing to make his opponent run from one end of the court to the other.

Kachiro walked to the net, arm outstretched.

"Good game."

"Hn." There was nothing much to say. Six to zero. Still, he himself was also breathing heavily, surely this was a sign? He hadn't exercised for quite some time after all…

"Okay, next Echizen versus Momoshiro."

Revenge could be so sweet.

"What? But Tezuka, he's a regular…" This comment was silenced with a single glare.

"Ah, I've always wanted to continue our game, thanks buchou!" Momo bent down to tighten his laces before stretching slightly.

Ryoma wiped his face on his sleeve. This would not be as easy as the last time. He nearly had to use his left arm the last time after all. And Momo's ankle had probably healed, though there may be some effects of that injury…

Momo pranced onto the court. He stood tall and pointed his racquet at Ryoma, "Prepare to be creamed."

"No, I assure you, you will be beaten."

"If you think I'm going to lose then you're bananas."

"Bring it on, chicken." (A/N a bit lame…)

The regulars looked on at this exchange with some amusement.

"Is there some inside joke?"

* * *

Ta dah! there it is, done!

I am working on another project! can't wait to get everything down on paper. tralala! finally got something else to think about.

I will get my exam scripts back. They planned it really well so we only had four days of blissful happiness before we got the papers of ultimate depression back. I'd better get more sodium in before I cry it all out later.

I am, nervous. And i am going to kill whoever who has been eating in the bedroom. It is already as cramped as it is, and I do not appreciate having to share it with ants.

OH! I was just wondering, if anyone has extra time on their hands or something like that, could you please please please help me with my summary? I just realized how much it really, was very horrible... so yeah... Thanks a lot!

Well! hope you enjoyed! And as usual, I am eternally grateful to everyone who has read this story and bothered to follow it till this stage :)

Bye!

MC


	17. Chapter 17

Hi everyone! This chapter is a bit shorter than the rest.

Oh who am I kidding, it's WAY shorter.

I just wanted to post what I had written for the week, at least to keep to my schedule. There has been some trouble, and I don't know if I can post my weekly chapter by this weekend.

So I'll just put up the half done one. I assure you, I have read and reread it at least three times.

I hope it'll suffice (for now).

Enjoy!

* * *

"You're good."

"You're not bad yourself," Ryoma panted and grasped Momo's offered arm, feeling himself being pulled to his feet again.

It had been a close match, but he had won, as usual. So why did he feel so tired?

Momo had beaten him at that. Endurance… His techniques would still do, but not for long.

If he could breathe any faster, it would have been considered hyperventilation. His water bottle was nearly emptied as he gulped down mouthful after mouthful of water, not even bothering to aim for his mouth. The blessed liquid dribbled down his chin and stained his already wet shirt.

"Well, Echizen, you are on the team. We hold ranking matches next month, and we will select the regulars then. There'll be a letter sent for you for confirmation, but for now, you can join practice with the second years."

"Yes." He placed the racquet in his hand onto the bench.

"Also, if you are considering trying for the regular team, you had better get your own racquet."

"Yes." He wasn't going to join the regular team anyway.

"Though, to be honest, you're not up to standard for the regular team." Tezuka closed his eyes and pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose.

_What._

"For now, you don't have a chance."

That was insulting.

"Until you work on have your stamina, you will never make it."

Ryoma looked up defiantly, even as the captain, he had no right to say that.

"The last three shots Momo fed you, you could have easily returned it to the left corner, out of his reach. And won quite easily. And in the sixth game, Momo gave you a lob, which you could have smashed."

"And so?" He could tell that the captain wasn't done with his analysis, but he couldn't be bothered to listen. He didn't need to know.

"You didn't. There's still one month until the ranking matches, I expect you to work on this problem." Tezuka picked up his racquet.

"And what makes you think I'll try out for the regulars?"

"You still have to deal with this problem even if you aren't." Tezuka said, with as much emotion as a dead sea urchin, "your current level can only get you this far."

"I'm… I will win." Ryoma wiped his chin.

"Prove it then. Inui, give him the training schedule."

With that, Tezuka left, presumably to shepherd the different levels into their respective groups.

No stamina huh? Well, he'll show them just how much stamina he had. One month was more than enough.

Yes, he'll show them exactly what they missed in today's show.

"Tezuka, I think you left quite an impression. Why are you making him try for regulars?"

"It's his decision to make. I didn't force him," he deadpanned.

"Saa… I wonder what he'll do next." Fuji watched as Ryoma reluctantly joined the second years in their training, but unable to do anything due to his dispossession of a racquet.

**_Curious and curiouser. _**

* * *

"So, how was first training?" Fuji twirled his racquet in his hand, throwing it into the air before catching it again. The racquet did an acrobatic spin Eiji would be proud of, and dropped straight, handle down, back to earth.

Ryoma grimaced, "Bad."

"Oh?"

"I didn't get a proper chance."

"For what?"

"To play."

"You played against the best players of the first and second years, wasn't that a chance enough?" Fuji further probed.

"Best players? Didn't seem like it."

"Better not let the others hear that."

"What? You're not mad?" He flinched as the racquet came uncomfortably close to his face.

"Mad? Whatever for?" Fuji rolled the sole of his shoe on a pebble, stowing his racquet safely away under his arm.

"For insulting your team."

"Quite the contrary. Of course, you will have to prove yourself now. How do you plan to go about doing that, hm?" Fuji kicked the pebble.

"I'm still thinking. But if I get into the team, I can still reject, right?" the pebble landed in a shrub.

"I don't know, everyone I know who has gotten in has accepted."

"You don't seem like the type to take tennis seriously," Ryoma eyed Fuji suspiciously.

"That's because I don't... to some extent."

"And someone forced you to join?"

"Nope, I joined of my own free will."

"Why? You could spend your time much more usefully."

"Doing what?"

"For starters, it won't be compulsory to get to school at six."

"Then?"

"You can actually sleep."

"I do sleep every night."

"I mean sleep properly."

"I sleep on a ten thirty to five thirty schedule."

"Seven hours."

"Something wrong?"

"Studies show that children your age require at least eight hours of sleep."

"And where did you hear that from?" Fuji challenged, smirking.

Ryoma blushed, "My mom…"

"That makes a lot of sense."

"She just reads too many self help books and quotes them to me."

"Self help books."

"Type A mom." Ryoma shrugged. Not of his problem.

"I see…"

"Hm, Fuji senpai, do I have to go for morning practice?"

"For non-regulars, it's not compulsory, why?"

"So it's optional?"

"Yes, would you like to come with?" Fuji asked, knowing full well what the answer would be.

"Yes," Ryoma frowned, thinking hard.

"Oh? I thought you would want to sleep in." **_Still as unpredictable as ever I see._**

"Stamina," Ryoma mumbled, "I'll show him stamina."

"Stamina is not something that can be acquired within a month you know."

"I have stamina, it's just in hibernation right now."

"Better let it defrost soon ne?"

"I know, but I still need to train."

"Train for what? I thought you weren't going to join as regular if you got in?" Fuji coaxed, the answer would have to come out some time.

"To prove myself," Ryoma said simply, stopping at the front door, "hold on, Eiji-senpai told me that you go out for dinner every Thursday."

"You heard it from Eiji." Fuji had walked past Ryoma to open the door.

"Yeah, so wh— Oh." Eiji.

"Hm," Fuji nodded knowingly.

"But Tezuka was there." That should be a reasonable argument.

"Was it at Taka's shop?"

"Taka's shop?"

"The tall, brown hair..." Fuji latched the door behind him.

"I know him, but he owns a shop?"

"The old fashioned sushi store. His father runs it."

"Oh, that one! Yes, it was there."

"Then probably Taka invited them all again. You know Tezuka, he won't refuse anyone. Except Eiji when he's hyper, then he usually leaves it to Oishi." He added as an afterthought.

"He won't?"

"As long as it has nothing to do with tennis." He smiled, yet it somehow felt eerie. And only he could pull it off.

* * *

So sorry! I will get back to it once things are back to normal. Oh, and could any of you help me with my Summary? I think I should work on it...

That's it for now!

Bye!

MC


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